


And He's Been There Ever Since

by MadSophHatter



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betazoid powers used as a plot device, D/s undertones, First Meeting, First Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Hugh doesn't mind, Insecurity, Introspection, Letters, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Paul has no idea how to romance, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Social Anxiety, adorkable idiots, denial of emotions, drunk stamets, idiots in space, nosy protective friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadSophHatter/pseuds/MadSophHatter
Summary: This is the story of how Paul Stamets falls in love with Hugh Culber. It all starts with a chance meeting in a café on Alpha Centauri. It doesn't go smoothly from there though. Mainly because Paul doesn't know how to do romance and feelings and stuff, and because Hugh cares too much about others and maybe not enough about himself.





	1. You and the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is not betaed. So if you find any glaring mistakes, let me know. If you want to be my beta reader, drop me a line.
> 
> tw: non-explicit mentions of sex

Paul sits and looks at the stars that have been out for hours. They are the only thing that can placate him right now. For a moment he manages to imagine that he can even see Earth from here. There’s a mug of coffee in front of him even though it’s decidedly too late for caffeine. But he couldn’t care less. There’s no chance he’ll sleep anyway. And holding on to the mug is the only thing that keeps his hands occupied. The only thing that keeps him from reaching for his PADD and checking his messages for the millionth time within the last few hours.

He knows it’s ridiculous. Starfleet might take days to even so much as read his appeal to fund his research on the mycelial network that is spanning all of time and space – that’s what Paul believes anyway. They could take weeks or even months to evaluate if they want to invest in his ideas. Or they could send him a solid no within the next two minutes. Why would anyone believe in the findings of a crazy mushroom guy thinking he could revolutionise space travel? The fact that he’s brilliant doesn’t count for anything, probably.

Waiting is almost worse than that prospect for Paul. A no is an answer at least. He can deal with failure, with rejection. He’s done that hundreds of times. It’s this that’s eating away at him – this pointless waiting. He doesn’t allow himself to hope. Still, there is no way he’ll accept defeat before it’s truly hit him.

So waiting and staring at the stars it is.

Paul is just taking another sip of coffee when the awful sound behind him starts. He almost spits the liquid back in surprise. Someone is humming – slightly off key, but that wouldn’t be so bad if the piece of music weren’t so complicated by design. Paul has never heard anyone trying to hum the melodies of multiple instruments and singing voices at once. Unsurprisingly, it comes out as a messy cacophony of hideousness.

He tries to ignore it at first. He really does. But something about the sound is beyond annoying. On the one hand it keeps Paul from concentrating on his stargazing. That’s bad enough because it also keeps him from pushing away his thoughts of Starfleet and impending failure. Never mind that it hasn’t really been working so far. Paul is more than willing to blame his own anxiety on the humming rather than examining why he is so nervous about this when he knows that he’s brilliant.

On the other hand the tone of the humming is unnerving because it sounds so goddamn cheerful. Nobody has the right to be this cheerful around Paul while he is so despondent and tired and overall willing to hit his head against the top of the table. How dare this individual? Can’t he see the dark cloud of gloom that must surely be hanging above Paul’s head?!

So it takes all of five minutes for Paul to turn around to the source of all this hideousness. “Could you kindly shut up? Or go elsewhere, please?” The please is just a formality, tagged on and dripping with disdain. The humming stops. The perpetrator, a man roughly Paul’s age, looks up from a book. A real analogue book! Who even still has those? As the stranger’s warm brown eyes meet Paul’s icy blue gaze, it feels like the floor has vanished from beneath his feet. Oh shit! He’s cute.

Paul can feel the heat creep up to his cheeks. It only intensifies when the man doesn’t look annoyed or insulted but smiles, showing brilliantly white teeth that are a beautiful contrast to his brown skin. Paul scrambles to turn back to his coffee. He doesn’t know what to make of this reaction, and he needs to hide his blushing face. It’s very possible that the gorgeous stranger is laughing at him.

Paul hears the scraping of a chair against the floor. Good. Maybe the guy is leaving. But the steps he can make out aren’t going away. In fact they’re coming closer. Paul wants to hide his burning face against the table. He’s too tired to deal with an altercation, too tired to be witty and keep cool. Should have thought of that before he antagonised a stranger, probably!

He manages to grab his mug and hide at least half his face behind it, before that other man reaches his table. Instead of standing in front of Paul, looming over him, he pulls out the chair opposite him and plops down onto it. Still smiling. Looking so relaxed that Paul feels out of place somehow in his defensive stance.

“Sorry I disturbed you." He doesn’t look sorry. His voice sounds soft and genuine though, not mocking at all. “The book just made me think of a specific scene from my favourite opera. I guess I got carried away a bit.”

That’s more information than Paul can process at the moment. How is this guy even more stunning up close? What does he want if it’s not mocking Paul or arguing with him? And less importantly, but no less curious, who the hell tries to hum opera music? In lieu of a response Paul downs the rest of his coffee. At least it feels like his blush is fading.

The other man has no problem filling the silence it seems. “Did I interrupt you doing anything important?”

Paul is still waiting for the shoe to drop. He expected insults, intimidation – not nice conversation with a handsome stranger. It has him flustered enough to answer without his usual sarcasm. “No, not really.”

“Can I make it up to you by buying you a drink then?” And there’s that smile again that makes something in Paul’s chest constrict. It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

He looks into his empty mug, still unsure what’s happening. But a free drink is a free drink. So he looks up and nods. “Another coffee, please.”

The stranger gets up and leaves for the counter. Paul desperately tries not to notice that he looks just as stunning from behind as from the front. Hopefully this is not just some elaborate prank. At least in the last two minutes he hasn’t thought of Starfleet or checking his messages even once. That must be a record. So maybe it’s a good idea to just roll with the situation and see what happens.

The stranger returns with two steaming mugs. After putting them on the table, he holds out his hand and waits for Paul to take it. He has to wait quite a while, but his confident posture doesn’t falter.

“I’m Hugh, by the way.”

“Stamets. Ensign Paul Stamets.” It would be strange to give his full name without his rank. Nobody has called him Paul since he left home for Starfleet Academy. Even his best friend Straal mostly calls him Stamets.

“Nice to meet you, Paul. Or would you rather I address you by your rank, Ensign Stamets?” Hugh’s eyes sparkle with mirth and something that could be fondness. Somehow his rank and the name of his parents sound wrong when he says them. Paul can’t tell if it’s something the other man does on purpose of if he’s just imagining things.

“You may call me Paul.” He takes a sip of his coffee in an attempt to hide that he’s blushing again – over something as innocent as the sound of his name rolling so easily off a stranger’s tongue. The coffee is still hot though. He almost spits it back into the mug, but prefers to burn his mouth rather than humiliating himself like that. He still doesn’t know what to make of Hugh’s presence at his table and doesn’t want to risk providing him with ammunition.

Hugh mostly ignores that little stunt. Paul isn’t quite sure if that’s a sympathetic wince on his face before he asks, “Are you on shore leave then? I thought the Republic was the only Starfleet ship in orbit.”

“I’m not on shore leave. I work at the research centre in the city.” Paul’s brows furrow. “You’re in Starfleet?”

“You sound like that’s unbelievable! Do I not look like a Starfleet officer?” Hugh looks amused. “Probably because I’m a doctor. I finished the Academy last year and now I’m earning my space legs on the Republic. This is my first extended shore leave since I’ve been assigned that post.”

So a spacefaring handsome stranger with a rudimentary understanding of biology – must be Paul’s lucky day. He’s mildly impressed with Hugh. If nothing else he is a convenient distraction from all the waiting. Paul is by no means opposed to killing some time flirting and possibly even between the sheets with the cute doctor. If he should be so lucky.

He blows on his coffee before he takes a few gulps. Still, he can’t fight a big yawn from escaping his mouth. Paul groans, “This stuff isn’t working.”

“Might be because it’s decaf.” Hugh’s tone is dry as the desert.

“Excuse me. What?” Paul’s eyes grow wide. “Who the hell even drinks decaf coffee?”

“Well, not you, by the looks of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You look terrible, to be honest. Like you haven’t slept in days.” It sounds genuinely worried, and that’s about the last thing Paul knows how to handle. A little flirting and a one night stand are totally within the realm of his experience. Someone – a stranger at that – really caring about him and his wellbeing decidedly isn’t. The fact that Hugh is spot on with his assessment doesn’t help one bit.

So he tries to get out of that deep water. “And here I was, thinking you were flirting with me. Instead, it seems like all you want is to insult me.” Paul cranks up the drama in his voice to make it clear that he’s not even half serious. To top it off he looks up from under nearly transparent lashes in mock scandal.

Hugh chuckles. It sounds warm and smooth and dark, just like that coffee Paul is craving. “I was indeed flirting with you.” That sparkle is back in Hugh’s eyes. Good. That’s something Paul can handle.

“Then the only way you could save that statement from being an insufferable insult is to offer that you’d take me to your hotel room and give me a nice relaxing massage so that I’ll feel better and hence look better too.” Paul is really proud of that comeback. And his pride only swells when he’s rewarded with a small chuckle and that wide grin that reveals perfect teeth. It’s gorgeous.

“That’s exactly what I was about to offer.”

Wow. This is actually working. Most of his flirting so far has taken place online. All his one night stands or short lived affairs have been arranged via one dating app or another. Because usually Paul can’t flirt for the life of him. But if this beautiful man is willing to give him the time of day, like hell he will question it.

“My hotel’s just around the corner. But take your time with your coffee.”

Hugh hasn’t even finished talking when Paul gulps down the rest of the warm beverage. No need to give this stunning stranger time to change his mind. Appearing so eager makes Paul blush again, but he doesn’t care now. Soon Hugh’s going to see a lot more of his flushed skin.

They leave the café in short order. Hugh actually takes Paul’s hand to guide him over to the hotel building. It feels nice in a way Paul has no words for. For a second he wonders if it’s reckless to follow a stranger to his room in the middle of the night. But he’s too tired and strung up to really care. He needs to let off some steam. And so far Hugh has proven very effective at keeping his mind off Starfleet and his empty inbox. A lot more effective than the stars.

Right. The stars. Paul gives them a last look as Hugh softly pulls him into the hotel.


	2. How Did I Get Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta stormkpr. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

Paul doesn’t know much when he blinks awake. He’s not sure where he is or how he got there. What he does know though is that he feels more relaxed than he has in weeks – his body like liquid against the soft mattress. Paul tries to remember the last time he woke up without a pain in his back, a crick in his neck and so tired that he could barely move. His memory comes up empty. The last few months he used to fall asleep at his desk, trying to formulate his findings in a way that would merit funding from Starfleet.

It’s nice to not be greeted by PADDs and glaring data slides when he opens his eyes. The light in the room is low and warm and coming from a small lamp at the other side of the bed. The curtains are drawn, but the light filtering through suggests that it’s day and there are three suns glaring outside. The only sound is the soft rustling of paper. What time could it be?

That thought rouses him enough to think this through. He’s in a strange room, in a strange bed, and there’s another person – Hugh – sitting on the other side of that bed, calmly reading a book. He doesn’t seem to notice that Paul’s awake, which is just as well because Paul isn’t sure how to deal with this situation.

There are few things he just doesn’t do. While having sex with strangers is not on that list, falling asleep in a stranger’s bed after sex and staying the night are pretty much at the top. 

So how is he still here?

He blinks a few times and slowly comes to his senses. His memories of last night come flooding back to him like waves. He didn’t spend the night after sex. There was no sex. That’s why he’s still wearing his briefs while Hugh’s in a grey shirt and sweatpants. But why? 

Paul remembers how they arrived at Hugh’s room. He took a quick shower, and then Hugh led him to the bed. They were both wearing briefs then. Damn Hugh was built. But he seemed just as impressed with Paul’s lean milky white body. So there wasn’t much insecurity as Hugh told him to lie down. He asked Paul to lie on his stomach for the massage. And for a moment that’s all he remembers. Scented oil and the warm smooth glide of strong hands over his body, finding all the kinks in his muscles and working them out with soft but insistent pressure.

It was so nice. Paul could feel the weight of the last few weeks slip off him. All the sleepless nights he’d spent trying to word his proposal in a way that the placid minds at the top of Starfleet would be able to understand. It had been beyond exhausting. Especially since he hadn’t allowed himself to hope that he would get anywhere with it. Last night he felt so light and incredibly heavy at the same time – nothing weighing him down but his own self. 

The whole time Hugh talked to him, his voice low and soothing, smooth as the warm oil slowly spreading over Paul’s body.

“So what kept you up at night?” Hugh sounded genuinely interested. And for a moment Paul was too relaxed to hold on to his secrets like he normally would.

“I had to write a proposal for Starfleet to get funding for my new research. And I’m great at research, but I’m abysmal at writing things like that.”

“And why is that?” Hugh sounded like he was raising an eyebrow, and Paul smiled into the pillow, not quite sure why.

“Because it’s really hard to dumb it down enough for those people to understand.” Hugh chuckles. It’s not clear if he’s laughing at or with Paul. But at the same moment he does something incredible to Paul’s lower back that keeps him from caring. “I have no patience to explain myself to people who know nothing of xenobiology or mycology or quantum physics. It’s not what I want to do. It’s not what I became a scientist for. I’d happily just spend all my time with my mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms, huh?” For a moment Paul’s muscles tensed right up again. He could have kicked himself for letting his guard down even for a moment. How could he expect this to be different from pretty much every conversation he had with anyone who wasn’t a colleague? “Mushrooms and quantum physics? Sounds interesting.” It sounded genuine enough that Paul relaxed again. 

“What about your work? How is space travel?” It was a shallow question, but Paul needed to change the topic. Talking about his own passions usually left others with too much ammunition to hurt him.

“Nice, I guess.” Hugh pointedly skipped Paul’s ass and continued by massaging his legs. Damn!

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Oh, do I sound dissatisfied? It’s fine, really. It’s nice to see space and we’ve passed by a few really interesting phenomena.” Hugh sighs. “But I don’t get off the ship much. And working in sickbay can be a bit boring, you know. We’re five doctors taking care of a complement of about 200 crewmembers. And the few interesting cases are reserved for the CMO. So I get to treat a cough or a headache or some cases of space sickness. And very rarely we get to do research on the anatomy and ailments of other creatures. I’m usually not one for complaining, but it feels like I’m wasting my potential.”

Paul could relate to that feeling. It had been his constant company until he’d found his calling. “What would you rather do? Why did you join Starfleet?”

“I’ve always been fascinated by xenobiology. If you want to study humanoids and other creatures, Starfleet is the place to be. I’ve thought about going into research after I’m done with this assignment. I want to help people. I want to do something meaningful. And healing space sickness or the occasional case of Ankaran flu doesn’t feel very meaningful.”

“I totally get that. Why bother with such menial things when you could be finding a cure for the Telurian plague?”

Hugh laughed as he started working on Paul’s feet.

“What?”

“Singlehandedly curing the Telurian plague might be a bit much to begin with.” Hugh couldn’t quite quell his laughter. “But it’s nice to know that you have so much trust in my abilities.” Paul turned around enough so that he could see Hugh’s brown eyes shining fondly. 

“Why? You have to think big. I do. I’m going to revolutionise space travel and I’m not settling for anything less than that.” The words were out before Paul could think. He wanted to bite off his tongue immediately. Stupid!

“Wow! How are you going to do that with mushrooms?” Hugh sounded surprised and genuinely curious. That was unexpected. It had Paul flustered enough to try and explain his theories.

“So I’ve discovered that there are mushrooms whose mycelial network seems to cover all of space. Their spores connect everything in space and time on a quantum level. By now it’s still a theory, but if we can find out how this biological network interacts with other quantum systems, we could use it to create a new drive. It would be a lot faster, easier to power and thus much more effective than warp drive.”

“Wow. Sounds ethereal. Tell me more.”

And Paul did. He talked and explained, and the questions Hugh asked made it seem like he understood. It might have been the first time in his life that someone who wasn’t a mycologist was so interested in his studies. Their conversation was relaxing too, adding to the effect of the massage. Somewhere between the softness of the bed, the security of Hugh’s touch and the familiar topic Paul must have fallen asleep.

It still seems bizarre to him. Even though he knows exactly what happened, he still has no idea how he got here. This is the most intimate situation he’s found himself in so far. It feels kind of nice, which only makes it scarier somehow.

Paul wonders if he should make it known that he’s awake. His eyes are open now and intently watching the other man. Hugh’s sitting with his back against the headboard, reading his book again, still exuding the same calm as last night. Thankfully he isn’t humming at the moment. Paul peers at the antique piece of paper. It’s by Isabel Allende, the title in a language he doesn’t know. Looks like Spanish.

Maybe the situation will get clearer if he gets out of his head for a bit. So Paul clears his throat.

“Oh, sleeping beauty’s awake.” Hugh puts the book away and smiles down at him. His eyes gleaming just as brightly as his teeth.

“You let me sleep?”

“You’re as brilliant as you claimed, it seems.” He strokes Paul’s back, far more tentatively than last night. “You were so tired and seemed to need the sleep. And the bed is big enough for two so why not?”

“How long did I sleep?” 

“The whole night and most of the day. It’s mid-afternoon.” Paul winces. Hugh sounds contrite as he adds, “Sorry if I let you miss work. You can still call in sick. Tell them your doctor made you rest.” He chuckles but still looks a bit unsure. 

“No, my dear doctor, it’s fine. I’ve put in enough overtime that I could not show up for a month and it would still be fine.” Paul grins with pride, but Hugh doesn’t look impressed. “There isn’t much to do now that I’ve finished the proposal anyway. I’m just not used to being done with work, I guess.”

Paul can’t decipher the look on Hugh’s face. It’s not happy, but that’s all he can tell. So he continues to talk. Maybe it’ll get better.

“Did you stay here with me all day?” Hugh nods, and there is this uneasy feeling again. Paul has no frame of reference for this – for someone caring about him enough to set aside his own needs and wishes. It seems bizarre to him that somebody would do that. “That’s probably not how you imagined you’d spend your shore leave.”

“What? Reading a good book? Watching a beautiful man sleep in my bed? Listening to his cute little snores?” Paul blushes but fights the urge to hide under the blanket. “Not exactly what I planned for my shore leave, no. But I’ve certainly had far worse times.” Hugh gives him that bright smile again. And Paul forgets to care about the fact that he’s blushing a deeper red.

“You must be hungry.” Hugh manages to sound casual. “Let’s get room service.”

“Sounds good to me. I want breakfast.”

Paul leaves the ordering to Hugh and goes to the bathroom. He can still smell the massage oil on his skin. It’s like the spell of last night is still wrapped around him, stopping him from questioning what he’s doing. Somewhere in the back of his mind his normal self tells him that he should be freaking out, that he should leave as quickly as he can. He has no idea why, but it’s what he’d normally do. But right now, wrapped in this spell of relaxation and warmth, he’s curious what will happen if he just allows himself to let go for a moment. He doesn’t let it encase himself completely though. Part of him stays wary. So Paul splashes his face with cold water so he can think more clearly. He isn’t sure if it’s working though.

When Paul returns to the room, there is breakfast. Hugh has ordered a tray filled with fruit and pancakes, yoghurt and cereal, bread and eggs – more than they could ever eat. Only now does Paul notice how hungry he really is. They eat in companionable silence for a while.

For Paul it stops being companionable at some point. Silence usually means that he’s busy working or surrounded by people he doesn’t want to talk to. And for some strange reason talking to Hugh is not half bad. So he swallows a bite of pancake and asks, “What were you planning on doing during your shore leave instead of this?” He vaguely gestures between the two of them.

“I actually wanted to do some sightseeing.”

Paul’s brow furrows. “There are sights in Alpha Centauri City?”

“There are. Quite a few actually. Haven’t you done a tour yet? How long have you been stationed here, Paul?” Paul is sure that at least half of Hugh’s incredulity is fake.

“Two years. Why would I go looking at sights? It’s a waste of time!”

“You’re amazing.” Hugh laughs. Paul wants to be indignant. He wants to protest, but it sounds so much like a compliment that he’s too flustered. “I bet you haven’t seen anything of the city besides your lab, your flat and maybe that café.”

“Wrong!” Paul throws a grape at Hugh, which he dodges. But he joins in with the laughter. It’s a pretty accurate assessment. “Straal dragged me to some nightclubs a few times.”

“Straal?”

“He’s my colleague and my best friend,” Paul clarifies. “Speaking of which, I should send him a message that I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Paul looks for his PADD and spots it on the nightstand where he left it last night. His eyes go wide. The knife he’s been holding falls from his hand with a loud clatter. He barely registers Hugh’s worried look. Paul’s world narrows down to the small green light at the side of the PADD. It’s blinking. There’s a new message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill: if you liked this, let me know. And visit me on tumblr.
> 
> http://lilbasthet.tumblr.com/


	3. Champagne and Miracles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not betaed because I'm too impatient to wait for someone else's opinion before I can post a chapter... Please tell me about any glaring mistakes.
> 
> It's shorter than I wanted, but this felt like the right point to make the cut.  
> I'll try to be faster with updating.

Paul almost trips over himself to reach the PADD. He taps the screen, and there it is – a message from Starfleet Headquarters. Hugh is next to him, looking over his shoulder.

“Looks like the reply to your proposal.”

“Yes.” Paul takes Hugh’s hand without thinking. He needs to hold on to something. Everything gets easier as he feels Hugh’s fingers tighten around his. 

He taps the screen again to read the message. His eyes skip most of the redundant formalities. Paul’s sure his heart stops for a moment as he gets to the important part.

“Oh yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” He can’t stop. Paul throws the PADD on Hugh’s bed, jumps up and does a little victory dance.

It involves jumping in a circle until he ends up in front of Hugh again. Hugh is smiling and he’s glowing with it. It almost seems as if he’s happier than Paul. Is that what seeing Paul’s pure joy does to him? He takes Paul’s hands, and that’s amazing because somehow it makes all of this more believable, more real. Paul can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by euphoria and stumbles forward without thinking. Their lips brush against each other as if by accident. But it doesn’t feel like an accident. It feels like two pieces of a puzzle sliding into place.

Paul has to laugh at the absurdity of it all, laughs into the kiss. Hugh takes this chance to slip his tongue past Paul’s lips. He tastes of the strawberries he’s just eaten. And that’s fitting somehow. Because how could this man taste anything but sweet?

The kiss remains tender. Their fingers intertwine and Hugh softly brushes his thumbs against Paul’s.

When Paul pulls back, he fears his heart might jump out of his ribcage – it’s beating so fast. Can you die of too much happiness? The way Hugh’s eyes look clouded when he opens them, the way he doesn’t let go of Paul’s hands, the way his tan skin flushes for once makes it all even better or worse. Paul isn’t sure of anything anymore. 

He wants to shout with joy. He wants to jump around the room like a little boy. He wants to kiss Hugh again and hold his hands and never let go. That thought wakes him from his euphoria like a bucket of ice-water poured over his head. Holding hands and soft kisses are for teenagers and dreamers. Not for Paul. Not for the scientist, the realist he’s learned to be.

“We should celebrate.” Hugh’s breathless voice and shining eyes are enough to rip through Paul’s doubts for the moment. 

“Good idea.” His voice sounds flat. But Hugh doesn’t seem to notice for once.

“Care to show me one of those nightclubs you just mentioned?”

“Yeah.” Paul doesn’t wait for the doubts to stop him. “Yeah. Why not. Let’s go to a club.”

This seems like one of the few occasions that deserve getting drunk. Ok, maybe getting drunk is just Paul’s idea of coping with these feelings he doesn’t understand. But there’s more to this idea that’s enticing. Just the thought of Hugh’s body writhing to the beat of music is irresistible. Pure lust seems easier to handle right now. 

Paul gets his jacket. “I have to go tell Straal right now. I’ll see you tonight. When should I come over to get you?”

“Around 10?”

“Ok.”

And then Paul flees without another word. If he stays with this man any longer while he’s in this state of mind, he might just explode from joy. He’s never really had anyone to share his happiness with. Not like this. He probably shouldn’t get used to it.

Paul walks the whole way to the Starfleet Research Centre. That takes him thirty minutes and the whole time he can’t get his mind to shut up or his lips to stop tingling with the memory of Hugh’s.

As he stumbles into the lab, Straal barely looks up from his calculations. “Did you fall asleep somewhere else than on your desk for once?”

“You could say that.” Something in Paul’s voice startles his friend. Now he looks up at Paul as if seeing him for the first time.

“What happened?” How does Straal manage to sound accusatory and giddy at the same time? “Tell me everything!”

Paul hesitates without really knowing why. “We’re getting our funding from Starfleet.”

“Oh, not that, Stamets!”

It feels like Paul’s eyebrows are hiking up to his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Starfleet forwarded that message to the lab three hours ago. We’ve already had some champagne, and Nanami went and bought cake to celebrate. There might be some left in the kitchen for you.”

Paul’s eyes must be huge as saucers. “Three hours ago?”

“Yep. And when you didn’t burst in here to deliver the good news yourself, we all got a bit worried. But I told the others that most likely you just fell asleep somewhere and that you’d show up sooner or later. And here you are.” It doesn’t quite sound smug. Maybe Straal can sense that he doesn’t know as much about Paul as he likes to think.

“Then what do you want to know?” Paul’s impatient. That’s a feeling he understands intimately at least.

“Where you fell asleep, Stamets!”

“What?”

“Oh, come on! Spill it! I’m not stupid. That’s why you like me.” Paul would like to debate both of those points right now, but Straal doesn’t let him interrupt. “You fell asleep somewhere that was neither your desk here nor your flat. Whatever you were doing had you distracted enough that you didn’t notice immediately when Starfleet send you a message. A message about a project you’ve been dreaming of for ages and that’ll change your whole life no less. Then you show up looking more relaxed and rested than I’ve ever seen you in the two years we’ve known each other. And on top of that I can smell lotus oil or something on you. So don’t even try to tell me that nothing happened or that there wasn’t a man involved.”

Paul’s mouth has fallen open at the list of evidence. He can feel his traitorous light skin go red. Straal is right of course. Why does it feel like he shouldn’t be?

“How would you know? Maybe I spent some time with friends.” It’s a weak defence. He knows it as soon as the words are out.

Straal laughs so hard that Paul actually fears he might choke. He still manages to speak around his wheezing though. “Friends? Stamets, you know like three people on Alpha Centauri, all of whom work in this lab, one of whom is me.”

Paul glares at him. The nastiness only makes Straal laugh harder.  
“Oh, come on! You know it’s true.” He calms down a bit before he continues, “Now will you kindly tell me where you fell asleep or rather with whom?” Straal’s eyes sparkle mischievously. Where is that coming from? Paul can’t remember him ever showing such interest in his affairs before.

He wants to leave without a word. He wants to tell Straal that it is none of his fucking business. He wants to say that nothing happened. Nothing. But somehow what comes out when he opens his mouth is something else. “I met a guy at a café. His name’s Hugh.”

“And it was amazing?” Straal has pulled up his eyebrows. He only sounds half mocking though. “What did you do with Hugh?”

“Nothing really. Nothing happened. He took me to his place and gave me a massage, and we talked. Then I slept there. We just slept. Nothing happened. Then we had breakfast together. That’s all. Nothing special. Nothing worth mentioning really.” Paul can’t stop. The words are just flowing out of him as if a dam has been broken. It’s scary. This never happens. Not to him. Not like this. “He read a book. A real book. Can you believe it? Who the hell has actual books nowadays? And he’s a Starfleet doctor.”

“Starfleet?” Straal jumps in at the first minute pause.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Oh, I just needed you to stop talking for a moment. I’ve never heard you rambling about a person like that. I’ve also never heard of you sleeping over at someone’s place. Are you ill or is this Hugh so special?”

Paul wonders why the hell he even came here. It certainly wasn’t to have the same questions thrown at him that have been bouncing off the inner walls of his skull ever since he left Hugh’s hotel room. He doesn’t have an answer, no matter where the questions are coming from. Or maybe he just doesn’t care to know the answer. But how long can you know something and pretend not to?

“I don’t know.” That’s the truest lie he’s ever told. “He’s handsome.” And kind and interesting and clever and undeterred by me being a prick and his voice is like a warm glow in a dark room and his lips taste of lightning and his touch can take worries away.

Straal grins as if he’s heard all the things Paul barely dares to add in his head.

“We need to get the champagne again. Two miracles in one day. Starfleet’s funding our research and Stamets is in love.” Straal gets up, comes over and pats Paul’s shoulder. Then he holds on to it as if he fears he might bolt. When did Straal become a fucking Betazoid? 

Maybe it’s good that the words are out there now. Like this Paul knows what to do, what to say, how to reason with his friend and with himself. “I don’t do love.” He doesn’t even sound defensive. It’s a simple truth like the colour of leaves, or the distance between Earth and Sol. Saying it feels good. It makes it more true somehow. Paul neglects to consider that facts can’t be more or less true. Or that the colour of leaves can change, just as the distance between a star and a planet. It just takes time.

Straal doesn’t seem as convinced. “Oh, come on, Paul! I know you’re not a hopeless romantic. But you must have been in love.”

“I had a few crushes in my late teens and early twenties. They never resulted in anything … satisfactory.” Oh, the sanitary ways one can find to describe insecurity, rejection, heartache, loneliness. “Ever since then I’ve been busy with important things.” Paul gestures around them. This is what he does. This is who he is. This is his life now and until yesterday that had been enough. He hadn’t felt as if he needed anything more, and he wouldn’t let his encounter with one man change that. 

“Well, what if this turns out … satisfactory?” There’s something on Straal’s face, an emotion Paul doesn’t quite understand. If it’s pity, he doesn’t want it. He takes a step back from his friend.

“Doubtful.”

“Why?”

Because there’s no reason a man like Hugh would be interested in him. Usually Paul isn’t particularly insecure. He knows his strengths as well as his weaknesses. He knows he’s attractive. He knows he’s intelligent and witty enough to keep up a conversation for a night. What he knows he can’t do is romance, compromise and caring. Apart from sex and good looks he doesn’t have much to offer. It wouldn’t take Hugh long to realise that.

What Paul actually says is, “Listen, just leave me alone. This is none of your business.” He regrets it instantly due to the hurt look on his friend’s face. Obviously his social skills are not just lacking in a romantic sense.

“Fine. It’s your life.” Straal doesn’t sound as resigned as he looks though. “All I can say as your friend is that I haven’t seen you like this before. When you came in here you were glowing with happiness. And I want to see you happy. If I found something or someone that made me this happy, I’d try to hold on to that.” Paul isn’t sure if Straal has ever sounded so solemn. 

“I’ll see him again tonight. We’ll go dancing.” It’s a peace offering.

“Sounds great.” Straal accepts it with a small smile. “Please, promise me you won’t wear anything hideous.”

“Excuse you!” Paul glares.

“I know what you wear when we go out together.” Straal’s fond smile takes the sting out of that comment.

“Straal, when we go out together, I don’t intend to get laid.” Paul grins. “Actually when we go out together, I don’t even intend to go out.” 

“So it’s a strategy? You dress as embarrassing as possible so I won’t take you along anymore?”

“Maybe.”

Their laughter rings through the corridors as they make their way to the kitchen. Maybe there’s some cake left. And champagne. Champagne might go well with that warm fuzzy feeling that can’t be chased away by all of Paul’s confusion and insecurity.


	4. Wanting (it) Too Much 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm irrationally proud of this chapter. 
> 
> tw: drinking, alcohol, people being drunk

Paul might have had a little much champagne. Not enough to make him slur his words or to make his movements clumsy. Just enough to make the edges of the world a bit softer and to turn every light into a fuzzy warm glow.

By the time he makes his way to the hotel, the effect has worn off though. Or he’s just grown used to it. The night is warm and cloudless. So Paul walks through the city again, feeling more enchanted by the glow of the stars than usual. He’s wearing a dark blue button-down shirt with short sleeves. He knows the colour complements his pale skin and reflects in his blue eyes. This shirt also makes his shoulders look a bit broader. He feels a bit stupid for caring about that because Hugh has already seen him wearing next to nothing. His dark pants are tight, hugging his firm ass. Contrary to popular belief Paul knows very well how to accentuate his best features. 

Two can play that game it seems. Hugh’s already waiting in front of the hotel as Paul arrives. And the view takes Paul’s breath away for a moment. Hugh is wearing a loose white tank top with a silvery pattern printed on the front. It sparkles in the light of the stars and billboard signs. Paul’s eyes don’t know where to settle because the tank top’s open sides offer a great view at Hugh’s toned arms and built chest. He can even get a peek at his abs. Dark shorts ride haphazardly low on Hugh’s hips. Looking at them reminds Paul that Hugh has those beautiful V-shaped muscles. Those muscles that can drive him insane because they beckon his thoughts to follow their shape downward. 

Paul is gaping, but he has absolutely no control over his facial expression. Luckily Hugh hasn’t noticed him yet. He feels ridiculous. He’s seen Hugh half-naked already. How can this man somehow be even sexier with clothes on?

It doesn’t get better when Hugh turns around and looks at him. He’s wearing glittery black eyeliner. It makes his dark brown eyes seem even more intense. Dowsed in the blue light of a billboard he looks out of this world, and Paul can feel his knees getting weak. The fuzzy warm feeling that had settled in his stomach starts to wander south.

Hugh is looking at him now, smiling brightly. So Paul can’t just keep standing there like an idiot and stare. He has to force his legs to walk him over there, and he has to force his mind to formulate coherent thoughts, then his lips have to form syllables, and his voice can’t break. He can’t make a fool of himself before their evening has even begun.

Processing all of that takes Paul longer than usual though. Hugh makes good use of the time, walking over to him. He lets his eyes sweep over Paul’s body from top to bottom. His smile widens which makes Paul’s heart beat quicker.

“Like what you see?” It’s hard to not be confident when those soulful eyes are drinking him in like he was water in the desert.

“Definitely.” Hugh traces the line of buttons on Paul’s shirt from the bottom to the top, pausing at the collar. “It’s a bit conservative for my taste, but it suits you so well.” There’s a question in his eyes. Paul can feel the blush high on his cheeks, but he nods. So Hugh pops open the two top buttons of the shirt. “Even better.” He grins as he grazes the sensitive skin of Paul’s neck with just the tips of his fingers.

At least he’s polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice the shiver going through Paul’s whole body.

“So which club are we going to? Is it close? Can we walk there?”

It takes a moment before Paul is ready to form coherent sentences again. “No, we have to take a transport.” 

Hugh holds out his hand in a casual gesture when they start walking towards the station. It’s not quite an invitation. It’s an offer that leaves the decision to Paul. He takes the offered hand. Their fingers intertwine, fitting immediately as if this were their preordained position in the universe. Paul must be more affected by the champagne than he believed. There’s no other way to explain the sentimental nonsense going through his head.

 

When they reach the club it’s not very full yet. That’s just as well because Paul always needs some time to get used to big crowds. It’s nice to start off in a setting that isn’t claustrophobic from the start. They find a place on the dancefloor and start moving to the rhythm of the music. Paul relishes in the heavy bass vibrating through his body.

He tries to dance as usual, but he feels weird. Maybe he didn’t think this through. When Straal takes him along to a club or when he goes on his own, it’s easy. He usually doesn’t care about other people and what they think of him. He just closes his eyes and lets the music guide his body, not caring if he looks stupid or bumps into people. Now that doesn’t seem like an option. He doesn’t want to close his eyes because then he would miss Hugh. And Hugh dancing is a sight to behold. The fluid motion of his hips is enticing. The way the colourful lights seem to caress his muscles is stunning. He looks graceful and sexy and carefree. It’s amazing.

That grace only makes Paul feel more awkward about his own movements. It’s not that Hugh seems disturbed or amused by the way he dances. In fact, he looks as if he’s enjoying himself. Still, it’s weird for Paul to be so conscious of what he’s doing. 

After a while Paul wonders if he should make a move to get closer to Hugh. Having this man writhing against him must be heaven. But how does he get there? He’s neither danced close nor sexy with anyone he was actually interested in ever. The only occasion in his life when dancing actually involved touching someone else was during the classic dancing classes his mother made him take. He was 14 then, and it was mostly awkward fumbling, sweaty hands and sneaking looks for everyone involved. 

Hugh leans over, pulling him out of his reverie. “You don’t look happy.” His lips are closer to Paul’s ear than is strictly necessary. The soft tickle of his breath against sensitive skin sends a shiver down his back.

It takes him a while to register what’s been said. He blinks. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Paul, this is your celebration. So we should do what you want.”

Sounds reasonable. “I want a drink.” Maybe that’ll make things easier. 

Hugh leads the way to the bar. He’s better at weaving through the growing number of people. He reaches for Paul’s hand, holding on with a firm grip. Oh. Paul realises that it’s not a drink he really wanted. He wanted this – the feeling he gets from holding Hugh’s hand. Luckily he didn’t have to ask for it. Paul’s sure his words would have failed him.

They get some blueish glittering cocktails that are too sweet for Paul’s taste. But he’s unable to complain with his hand in Hugh’s and those dark eyes so intently focussed on him. Does that warm tingling come from that intense gaze or the alcohol? He can’t tell.

Hugh finds a place for them on a sofa in a relatively quiet corner. They sit so close to each other that Paul can feel the heat of Hugh’s skin through layers of fabric where their legs are touching. Then Hugh’s free hand finds Paul’s knee. His fingertips seem to ignite a fire under Paul’s skin. 

Soon their glasses land on a small table to be ignored for a while. Paul looks over at Hugh, and his eyes pull him closer with the gravity of black holes. Their lips meet for the second time today. It’s slow. Paul closes his eyes, and the world starts spinning around him. It’s dizzyingly wonderful. The sweet taste of the cocktail is better as he sucks it off Hugh’s tongue. Paul blindly reaches for Hugh’s hand again. He needs an anchor so he doesn’t float away. His other hand is on Hugh’s neck, pulling him closer. He could drown in this kiss.

It must be a very long time before they pull apart. When he opens his eyes, Paul notices that the dancefloor has filled considerably. Hugh looks as breathless as he feels – his lips slightly ajar, swollen and glistening with moisture. It’s a good look on him. Paul is irrationally proud that he’s responsible for it. He feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he pulls Hugh closer again.

When they finally finish their drinks, Paul is sure he looks debauched. Two more buttons of his shirt are open, and at some point Hugh took a liking to the soft feel of blond hair under his fingers. Or maybe he was intrigued by the breathless sighs his caresses could tear from Paul’s lips. Anyway, Paul’s hair must be a mess. However, it’s fair because he finally had a chance to touch Hugh as well. Nimble fingers found their way under the fabric of the tank top, caressing tight abs and tangling in the soft curls on Hugh’s chest.

They dance for a while. Paul feels more well in his skin now. He isn’t sure if it’s due to the alcohol or the extended make-out session. Probably both. He’s having fun, and seeing his own smile mirrored in Hugh’s face does something funny to his heart. It doesn’t exactly beat faster. It just feels more intense than usual somehow.

Paul needs another drink – a gin and tonic this time – before he dares to get close to Hugh on the dancefloor. He’s immediately rewarded as soon as he does, firm hands on his ass pulling him closer. The way Hugh moves his hips to the rhythm almost makes him go crazy. He holds on to tanned arms, unsure if his knees might buckle. At some point his hands wander south, exploring Hugh’s broad back and finally reaching his ass. Oh damn! It feels like he’s holding on for dear life.

It’s been a while since Paul’s been so close to anyone. So after a few songs he’s half hard and slightly embarrassed. There’s no reason to be. Hugh’s in the same state and doesn’t seem fazed at all. Paul resorts to some more gin and tonic to remedy his discomfiture. Hugh switches to water. His body is a temple, probably. 

By the time they leave the club, Paul can just about walk in a straight like. His vision is blurry though. All the lights around him seem to be flaring and buzzing, and he feels a bit warm. It’s nice – as if the whole world is vibrating with some kind of inner light. Hugh takes his hand again. That feels nice too, and this time Paul says it out loud only to be rewarded by a sparkling smile.

“I guess I should get you home.” Hugh laughs, but there’s something underneath the amusement Paul can’t place.

“Good.” Paul doesn’t quite slur his words, but he’s close. “I was planning on taking you home anyway.”

“Oh, you were?” Hugh laughs.

There’s a little pause before Paul can’t keep the words in any longer. “I think I’ve never taken such a beautiful man home.” It’s true of course. He’s never really taken a man home period. He usually doesn’t want them to stay after the fun part is over. And it’s a lot easier to simply escape from someone else’s place after sex than it is to get somebody to leave your bed.

“Must be your lucky night then.” 

Yeah, must be.

It’s sitting down on the transport that gets to Paul in the end. As soon as he stands up from his seat, the world starts spinning again. This time it doesn’t feel beautiful and magical, just disorienting. But Hugh is there to hold him up and guide him out of the transport, out of the station and finally to his flat.

He deposits Paul on his sofa, then goes and rummages through his kitchen. He comes back with a big glass of water. 

“Drink that. All of it.”

Paul takes the glass and manages a few gulps. Then he looks up, his eyebrows pulled together, silently asking if he really has to drink all of it. Hugh only gives him a stern look. It makes Paul giggle for some reason.

“You’re such a doctor.”

“Yes, I am.” Hugh gives him a self-deprecating little smile. “It’s hard to stop caring, just because I’m not on duty.”

“Well, dear doctor, if you insist.” Paul downs the water with a long-suffering look. Anything that’ll allow him to take this to the bedroom a little faster. 

It seems to work, because Hugh helps him to his feet again and gently pushes him towards his bedroom. Paul sits on the black comforter on his bed. When he leans down to take off his shoes, everything starts spinning again. He almost falls over, but again Hugh is there to catch him.

“You’re my hero tonight.” Paul giggles.

Hugh’s chuckle is like a caress to his ears. “Let me help you.”

He undresses Paul with swift practiced movements. A doctor indeed. This is not exactly how Paul imagined this scenario. In his mind he was sober enough to strip gracefully, or they were kissing, barely able to keep their mouths apart long enough in order to rip the clothes off each other’s bodies. But this is fine too, he tells himself, as long as it gets the job done. As long as both of them end up naked in his bed, he doesn’t really care how they get there.

When only his briefs are left, Hugh helps him up and leads him to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Paul returns to an almost dark room. The small lamp next to his bed is on a low setting. He also notices that the refilled glass of water has migrated to his nightstand. To his surprise Hugh is still fully clothed. He hasn’t even taken off his shoes. But Paul doesn’t think too hard about it when the other man disappears in his bathroom for a moment. Instead he crawls onto his bed and gets comfortable. 

Paul only realises that something’s off when Hugh returns to his bedroom, still fully clothed. His brows furrow, but he can’t quite form a question. The fog in his head is growing thicker and his eyelids are heavy.

“Do you think you’ll be alright for the night or do you need anything else before I go?” 

What?

Paul realises he’s said that out loud, as Hugh flinches slightly. “You’re not staying?” Paul can hear the panic in his own voice, and it feels pathetic.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight if that’s what you’re asking.” It doesn’t sound unkind. But Hugh turns around, ready to leave.

“So… You’re not interested in me?” Paul wants to disappear under his blanket. That sounded heartbroken and pitiful.

It’s enough to stop Hugh in his tracks though. He turns around, looking at Paul with a sad smile. “On the contrary, I’m very interested in you. In fact I’m so interested in you that I’m not interested in us having casual sex and then going our separate ways.” Paul’s eyes grow wide. “I’m so interested in you that I’d like to be with you.” His mouth might be hanging open too. Paul has lost all sense of what is happening to him.

Hugh looks just as shocked as Paul feels. But it only takes him a moment to find his composure. “Besides, you’re too drunk to decide if you want this right now.”

“Am not!” Paul sounds petulant. 

“Yes, Paul, you are.” Hugh looks serious, but kind.

That has never stopped any of his previous partners. But Paul takes a moment to think it through. It does make sense to him. Somewhere deep down the rabbit hole that is his mind right now, he knows that you can’t just have sex with someone who is too inebriated to consent. The fact that getting to that logical conclusion takes him so long only serves to demonstrate to him how drunk he really is. 

So he nods, but says, “But will you stay here, then? Just sleep?” He looks up at Hugh through transparent lashes. 

Hugh sighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Paul has to smile. He scoots over to one side of the bed and pats the other one invitingly. “Yes. I’ve slept in your bed. Now you sleep in mine. Seems fair, right?”

Hugh’s expression is unreadable. But Paul couldn’t care less because now Hugh starts undressing. It’s a quick methodical affair, nothing sexy about it. When he’s down to his briefs, he slips under the cover next to Paul. And just like that something in Paul’s chest unclenches. 

Hugh doesn’t make a move to come closer, which is just as well. Paul is not the snuggling type. He likes to have his space. But as he relaxes into the pillows, his hand wanders over to Hugh’s side on its own accord. Hugh’s hand is open, ready to welcome his. He gives Paul’s hand a firm squeeze, and then he rhythmically strokes his thumb over it.

It doesn’t take long for Paul to fall asleep like this.


	5. Wanting (it) Too Much 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What keeps Hugh up at night, a short reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried writing Hugh...

It doesn’t take long before Paul falls asleep. Hugh’s thumb keeps gently stroking his hand for a while. He can’t fall asleep. There are too many things going on in his mind. At some point Paul scoots over in his sleep. Bit by bit he drapes his body over Hugh’s. That doesn’t help – not at all. It’s endearing. It’s also a promise of something Hugh desperately wants but can’t have it seems. If only his mind would shut up and let him enjoy this moment, just like he allowed himself to enjoy this whole evening. Instead he lies awake and just contemplates his situation. 

Hugh is a hopeless romantic. He’s been told this so often that he has no trouble believing it.

From the moment Paul told him to be quiet in the café, he knew he was in love. Desperately, hopelessly in love with this beautiful prickly man. And every moment they’ve spent together since then has only made the feeling stronger. 

He’s fascinated by this remarkable creature. The passion with which he speaks of his work. The intelligence and creativity that allow him to see the world like nobody else could. The honesty, not just of his words but of his whole being. That expressive face. That traitorous pale skin, giving away anger and excitement. The brows, so often furrowed in worry. The body clinging to him in his sleep, revealing feelings he doesn’t seem to understand when he’s awake. There is no part of Paul that seems able to lie. And all of that soft and brutal honesty is wrapped up in beauty beyond Hugh’s understanding. 

He never had a chance.

He wants Paul. He wants him so much. But it’s not just his body that he craves. It’s his presence, his essence and ultimately his love.

But Hugh also knows this might not be easy. Paul seems like the opposite of a hopeless romantic. More often than not he looks like a cornered animal. Every time he opens up a little, it doesn’t take long for him to notice what he’s done and he clams up again. It reminds Hugh of a hedgehog, ready to roll itself into a ball and show the world its spikes rather than getting hurt.

He doesn’t know what made Paul this way.

But he knows that this will take patience. Hugh has no interest in sleeping with Paul so that he can dismiss this as an affair and forget it ever happened. If he can’t be with this man completely, he’d rather not be with him at all. But if there’s the slightest chance that he can be with Paul completely, he needs to try.

Luckily, if Hugh has anything, it’s patience. You can’t be a good doctor without it. 

He carefully slips out of Paul’s embrace. He takes a long fond look at the man who’s betraying his feelings in his sleep, not worried about getting hurt for once. Hugh gets dressed quietly. Then he grabs Paul’s PADD from his nightstand and taps out a message before he leaves. There’s a plan forming in his mind, but he needs time to think. Right now he’s irrationally afraid of losing something that isn’t even his yet. He pushes the fear away.

Right now he must get back to his ship, do his job, be a doctor. But there will be time to be a romantic. He’s sure of that.

It’ll only take patience, and Hugh has patience in spades.


	6. A Hole in my World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title was inspired by the following quote by Edna St. Vincent Millay
> 
> “Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”

Paul wakes up alone. It has never felt this empty before. He doesn’t know if by it he means his bed or his heart. He raises the light level to maximum as if that could chase away the emptiness.

Big mistake. His head is pounding, and he has to cover his eyes with his arm. Reaching blindly he turns the light back down. When that doesn’t help, he hides under his blanket. The darkness surrounding him soothes more than just his head. But his bed still smells like Hugh. Ugh. It’s like being trapped in limbo. Staying in here is unbearable because it feels like Hugh is right there, but he isn’t. Going out there seems unbearable because it means that he has to confront the hole in his world where Hugh used to be.

How can someone become so important to you in less than two days? It’s ridiculous. It’s irrational. It needs to stop.

Paul throws the blanket off the bed and sits up. He ignores the pain – that in his head and everywhere else too. He can do this. It’s nothing new. That’s what he tells himself, but his body has different ideas. When he tries to get up, nausea hits him like a punch in the face. The world spins precariously around him. He has to hold on to the wall above his nightstand so as not to topple over. That’s when his eyes land on the glass of water from last night. Next to it lie a small hypospray and his PADD, which is blinking with a message again.

Once Paul feels steady enough to let go of the wall and sit down on the bed again, he reaches for the water. His mouth is dry and tastes like mold. At least part of the nastiness is washed away as he empties the glass. He eyes the hypospray next. It’s a detox-compound usually referred to as the cure for hangover. What a mercy! He holds the device to his neck and injects himself with the medication. It works almost instantly. His nausea disappears, and the dull throbbing in his head recedes. Oh, the perks of dating a doctor!

Except that they aren’t dating! Paul chastises himself silently. With that in mind and newly able to move around, he gets up and makes short work of ridding his bed of its covers and sheets. He puts it all in the washer and starts the program before he can change his mind. As if eliminating Hugh’s smell from his things, could somehow erase him from Paul’s mind as well.

Feeding that same illusion Paul showers for a long time with very hot water until he thinks, he doesn’t feel the ghost of Hugh’s touch against his skin anymore.

Paul goes to work. He leaves the PADD on his nightstand, ignoring the blinking green light.

When he reaches the lab, Straal takes one look at him and knows what’s up. Paul resents him for being able to read him like a book. He also resents him for caring enough to say something about it.

“So it didn’t go well last night with Hugh?” Paul’s nasty glare is not enough to deter him. Straal comes over and embraces his best friend. It’s a bit awkward. Paul isn’t the cuddling type, neither with his lovers nor with his friends. But it feels good too. Not good enough though.

It’s not what Paul wants. What he wants, is Hugh’s hand holding on to his tightly like he’d never let go. Now he also resents Straal for making him aware of that fact. Paul shakes his head as if that could dislodge the offending thought. Luckily Straal takes that as a cue to let go. Had they stayed in the hug a bit longer, Paul might have started crying. And that’s about the last thing he wants right now.

Straal looks at him expectantly. So he says the first thing that he remembers, “We had a great time at the club.”

“And then?”

“He brought me home.” Paul pauses, unsure what to say next. The silence stretches between them like a rubber band ready to snap any moment. Straal doesn’t look away so Paul finally says, “Then he left.”

Straal’s eyes widen with surprise. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Paul. But isn’t that exactly what you wanted?”

Of course it is which makes it worse somehow.

“I’m not the one who said it didn’t go well.” Paul’s in defensive mode, using snark to hide those weird feelings of loss he isn’t entitled to.

Straal doesn’t look like he’s buying it. He has the decency not to call Paul out though. Instead, he just asks, “Did you have sex?”

Paul’s resentment for his best friend reaches new heights. How does he hit the mark every fucking time? Damn Straal!

“No, we didn’t.” He’s saying it through clenched teeth, unable to relax.

“You want to tell me why?” Straal looks worried.

“I was drunk.” Paul would like to end this talk right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to go through with it.

“Sounds reasonable. At least it’s not like he wasn’t interested, right?”

“Oh, he was interested.” That’s the fucking problem. Because what is Paul supposed to do with the knowledge that Hugh actually wants to be with him?

“I’m not quite sure what your problem is, Stamets.” Straal sounds wary.

“It’s not that simple!”

“Isn’t it? You want him. He wants you. Love happens. Everyone wins.” 

Paul laughs derisively. “I don’t want him.” At least not in the way that Hugh wants him. “I don’t do love. We’ve had this conversation already.” 

Straal just crosses his arms. It’s clear that he still doesn’t believe Paul. So he storms out of the lab and hides in his study. 

The rest of the day Paul tries to burry himself in work. That shouldn’t be difficult. Starfleet has sent them numerous messages with all the things they need to consider for their further research. However, this is the kind of work Paul abhors. So he feels his mind wandering to Hugh, to the PADD on his nightstand, to the Starfleet ship in orbit, to his favourite café where he can’t go anymore. Shit!

By the end of the day Paul knows that the Starship Republic has left Alpha Centauri’s orbit this morning. He can’t quite remember looking it up, but obviously he did. He isn’t even sure if this is good or bad. Hugh is gone. There’s no chance of meeting him again, not on Alpha Centauri.

In the evening Straal and some other colleagues try to get him to go out with them. He declines. He can’t do this right now even if they’re just trying to help him. Back at home he pointedly ignores the PADD. It’s still blinking of course. And that must be a message from Hugh somehow. Paul isn’t ready to deal with that. Not when he isn’t sure what would be worse, a goodbye or a declaration of love.

He manages to ignore the PADD for two more days. However, he knows the planned itinerary of the Republic for the next month. He has checked the ship’s crew manifest and found Doctor Hugh Culber. He also knows that Doctor Culber graduated the Academy with honours. That’s about all you can find out from the file of a young officer, fresh out of the Academy.

Then it’s his free day, and there’s nothing to distract him. So he takes the PADD and sits down on his bed. Paul needs a few more minutes before he can even activate the PADD. When he finally does he sees that the message is saved on the device’s desktop as a document titled “Dear Paul”. The first thing that comes to his mind is the ancient term Dear John letter and his heart clenches. When he opens the document, he can barely breathe.

_Dear Paul,_

_I’m so sorry I didn’t handle myself better. And I’m sorry I just left, but the Republic is leaving early in the morning, and I just didn’t know how to say goodbye to you._

_Of course I should have told you earlier that I have to leave. But I didn’t expect the evening to end as it did. I wish I’d had more time to explain to you what I want out of this._

_I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with my feelings._

_But my admission still stands. I’m very interested in you._

_That’s why I’d love to get to know you better. So I’m leaving you my contact data for the Republic. I’d like it if we could write to each other._

_Feel free to ignore this message. It’s fine if you don’t want to stay in touch. I won’t bother you again._

_Bye_

_P.S.: I’ll miss watching you sleep. It’s kind of adorable._

Paul releases the breath he’s been holding. It’s not just a goodbye. There’s a promise of more. “Write to each other.” He almost has to laugh. Hugh seems a bit old fashioned. But then, he also owns at least one book. Paul’s so relieved, almost giddy, that it’s hard to ignore what that says about his feelings for Hugh. 

He blocks it out by concentrating on his anger. Paul is angry at Hugh for just leaving. Of course, he gets it somehow, being unable to say goodbye. But it hurt nonetheless. Paul is angry at himself because something like that can hurt him. He should be more rational, less involved, less emotional. This shouldn’t faze him at all. Paul is angry at himself for getting so drunk that Hugh really had no chance to tell him about his departure earlier. Paul is angry because technically he has no reason to be angry at Hugh at all - no rational reason at least. Paul is angry at Straal for saying the word “love”, thus planting it in his head where it’s been wreaking havoc ever since.

Paul reads the message again and again. He leaves out the P.S. because it makes him blush every fucking time, and that makes him feels pathetic. Soon he can recite all the lines by heart, but he still can’t believe them. 

Why would Huh be interested in him, especially after seeing him drunk and mushy and embarrassing? Why would he not blame Paul for making the evening end that way, effectively preventing Hugh from explaining the situation? Why the hell should Hugh be sorry for expressing his feelings, just because of course that is overwhelming for Paul? But that’s Paul’s problem not Hugh’s, right? It’s confusing.

Paul hates this. He hates how vulnerable this – being in love for lack of better words – makes him feel. It’s like handing another person a fully charged phaser and telling them where it’ll hurt the most. Paul feels like everything he loves, everything he does and all that he is, will be judged by Hugh. Of course, up to now Hugh hasn’t found him lacking. But it’s only a matter of time before that will change. Especially since Paul has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know what’s expected of him. So he knows with absolute certainty that he’ll fuck this up. That’s exactly why Paul Stamets doesn’t do love. He’s no good at it. It’s really not like he needed a reminder.

The next day at work Paul wants to tell Straal, but he doesn’t have the guts. He fears that his best friend will confront him with the emotions and questions he’s ignoring more or less successfully – maybe less. So he keeps quiet and thinks of Hugh.

At first all he can think of is how much he’d like to repeat their first evening together. He could use a massage and someone to listen right now. Turns out, funding from Starfleet is a double-edged sword. The perks like money for new research come with a lot of administrative work. It’s exactly the kind of work Paul hates and isn’t good at. And somehow he knows that he’d believe Hugh if he told him that he could do it. Paul gets so exhausted at work that he doesn’t even have the energy to chide himself for such thoughts. It seems this is what his life has become now.

It takes Paul’s egocentric self days before he manages to see the situation from Hugh’s position. Only then does he realise that with the message Hugh has really handed him a phaser and put a bullseye over his heart. Paul could send him some mean message, saying how angry he is at Hugh for leaving, telling him that he was never interested in something serious. But the cruellest thing Paul could do is what he is doing now – not answer at all. Well shit! If Hugh is serious about liking him and wanting to be with him, it was extraordinarily stupid of him to leave Paul in complete control of the situation. But maybe that’s what love does. It makes you do stupid things.

It takes another day before Paul feels ready to send Hugh a message.


	7. Of Hearts in Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the bit of backstory I made up for my babies

_Hi! I guess._

_This is weird. As you see I’m not writing to you and I won’t. I hate writing letters. And at the moment I really don’t have the nerve to spend more time in front of my PADD. I’ll explain later, if I don’t forget. So I’ll send you video messages or maybe just voice recordings if I feel like it._

Paul fidgets with a data rod, trying to sit still. This is so weird. The only personal messages he ever sends are to his parents. And he only does that once a year because he can’t be bothered.

_If you want to get to know me better, you better ask me some questions. I have no idea what to tell you otherwise. I have a question for you. What is it with you and that book? I’ve never seen someone read an actual book before. Tell me what it’s about and why you couldn’t just save it on a data rod. And it’s in Spanish, right? How much Spanish do you know and why?_

He feels stupid. Of course he would ask such inane things in everyday conversation, but it feels pointless to express them in a message that would be sent thousands of lightyears. For a moment Paul contemplates deleting all of it and just not sending anything at all. But while he can be callous and impatient he’s never been cruel. 

_Let me tell you of the mess my life has become. Starfleet did not just decide to give us funding. They decided to give us our own Institute at Starfleet Headquarters. So we’re moving to Earth to San Francisco. In three months we leave Alpha Centauri. I six months Starfleet’s own Institute for Astromycology will open._

_I’ve done nothing but writing proposals this last week. Oh, and you know how much I love that. We’re getting the money, but that also means we have to decide what to spend it on. We’ll need new workers, new technology, they might even want us to teach the next generation of astromycologists. Can you imagine me in a classroom? Yeah, I can’t either._

_Straal, my best friend and colleague, is in charge of planning our move to Earth. So neither of us is working, well we’re not doing research at least. I know I shouldn’t complain, because this is my dream coming true, but I hate it. And I fall asleep on my desk at four in the morning every night._

He only adds that because he knows it’ll get to Hugh. The doctor in him will worry and for some reason that’s exactly what Paul wants. He never said he wasn’t petty.

_That’s all I have to say for now. How’s life on your starship? Have you been treating anything more interesting than a cold lately?_

_I’m enclosing my contact data. I’ll let you know when it changes because we’re moving to Earth._

_Bye, I guess._

He waves awkwardly.

Paul cringes and pauses the recording. His finger hovers over the delete button for at least a minute. In the end he doesn’t delete the message though. He doesn’t feel like going through that kind of embarrassment again. And just not sending Hugh a message has stopped being an option in his mind about a day ago. Too cruel.

Paul has thought about addressing the night they spent at the club and the way it ended and how he felt afterwards. But he doesn’t have any words to talk about it. He doesn’t know what to say. And he isn’t quite sure if he wants to know how Hugh is feeling about it at the moment. So he leaves it out and hopes that Hugh will get the hint and do the same.

Paul sends the video message and then leaves his PADD at home. Work is hard enough without being distracted by the blinking green light, or worse the lack thereof. He’s still distracted of course. So much so that he finally decides to leave work early – to raised eyebrows and cheers by Straal. He probably thinks Paul is actually taking care of his health for once. When he gets home, the first thing he sees is that there’s indeed a blinking green light on his PADD. By now it’s difficult to ignore the little leap his heart takes at that. 

Hugh answered a mere hour after he received Paul’s message. Wow! That’s flattering somehow. The message is a written one, true to form.

_Dear Paul,_

_Thank you so much for your message. I was a bit worried if you’d send me anything at all. So I was very happy when I got it._

_It’s totally fine if you don’t want to write. It’s just something I like doing because it helps me to structure my thoughts better. I feel more eloquent in writing so to say. But if you’d like me to send you videos or voice recordings instead that’s fine too. Just let me know._

Paul smiles. He will not ask for anything but letters. Maybe if he can’t see or hear Hugh the effect that man has on him will slowly diminish. Wouldn’t that be nice? It might even work if he couldn’t hear Hugh’s voice reading out each line and see his smile in his mind. Damn!

_I’m sorry you’re so stressed. Must be annoying to write all those proposals. Especially since you were so glad to be done with it after you petitioned for funding. Please, don’t overdo it. Take some time to relax. That’s even more important when your work is difficult for you._

_I cannot imagine you teaching a class, but I think that’s only because I haven’t even thought about that yet. Just like I’d never considered that there could be a mycelial network spanning spacetime before you told me about it. So I think you can do it even though you might not be able to imagine it yet. To be honest, I can’t imagine you failing at anything you put your mind to. Isn’t that how being a genius works?_

_So you noticed the book. It’s “The House of the Spirits” by Isabel Allende. I inherited it from my abuelita, my grandma. She died earlier this year and she wanted me to have all her books. She collected Spanish books and other antiques. Abuelita used to read them to me when I was little. I learned Spanish from her. She and my mom are from Puerto Rico. And my grandma didn’t want me to forget about my roots. So she never spoke anything but Spanish to me until I was a teenager. I think I didn’t even know she could speak English. She was a very stubborn woman. When she died, my mom sent me her books to the Republic and now I’m rereading all of them when I find the time._

Paul feels a little pull in his chest. He has never met his own grandparents. All of them died before he was even born. He can’t really imagine how losing a family member must feel. But he feels honoured somehow because Hugh is ready to share this with him. He’ll look the book up later. Maybe he’ll even read it. Paul tries to ignore how sentimental and irrational that is. He also ignores the fact that the number of things he has to ignore has grown exponentially ever since he met Hugh.

_Oh and I’ve had quite a bit of time. Nobody gets sick on this ship. I’m doing a bit of research though. I’m learning a lot about organ transplants and artificial augments for Andoria s and similar species. That’s very interesting, just not nearly enough work to fill my day. I guess it’s good that I have some books left._

_You wanted questions to answer, so here goes: Do you ever read anything that has nothing to do with mushrooms or quantum physics? What’s your favourite music? Do you feel like telling me about your family?_

_That’s it for now. I might write to you again before you answer if anything interesting happens or if I can think of some more questions._

_Bye_

And that’s exactly what happens. Hugh sends him at least three messages a week, sometimes more, sometimes more than one in one day. Most of the time they don’t even have much content. He just wants to let Paul know that he’s thinking of him. Or something interesting happened and Hugh wants to share it with Paul. It’s nice. Reading Hugh’s messages becomes Paul’s favourite part of the day. They calm him down and relax him and they make him smile, because Hugh doesn’t seem to care that the things he’s writing about are mostly inane and irrelevant. 

Paul on the other hand only records a message once a week, sometimes only one in two weeks. In his videos he usually complains, about Starfleet, about the mountains of paperwork he has to fight through, about Straal who is far too cheerful in light of the situation. He answers questions. No, he has no grandparents. Yes, he is an only child. Yes, he has loads of uncles and aunts and cousins, but they’re all a lot older than him. No, he doesn’t like Kasseelian opera, actually he likes anything but opera music. Yes, he does sports, but only swimming, because anything else is gross and makes you sweaty, ugh. Paul doesn’t even notice how each message gets longer and how he gets more and more relaxed and comfortable in front of the camera.

He learns that Hugh grew up surrounded by women. His dad died when he was five, leaving his mum and his abuelita to care for him and his two older sisters. They’re close. Since he’s been on the Republic they’re writing letters as well. Hugh likes opera of course and any music you can dance to basically. He enjoys poetry, but only Spanish poetry for some reason. He has been in three(!) serious relationships so far. Paul didn’t expect to get an answer to that question, but he had to ask. Maybe he has masochistic tendencies.

The greatest thing is, when Hugh sends him a video message because something big happened.

_Hi! Hi! Hi!_

_I’m sorry if this is all over the place, but I’m so excited, Paul. You have no idea!_

Paul has a pretty good idea actually. Hugh’s smile is so wide it must hurt his cheeks, and he’s bouncing up and down. He looks like a child on Christmas morning, presenting all his great new toys. It’s adorable.

_OMG. OMG. Oh my god._

_I told you that our CMO would be very busy today, treating all those dilithium miners from Corvan II. But then we got an emergency hail from an Andorian space station. One of their workers had a mechanical heart transplant, but it was old and malfunctioning. They didn’t have the medical technology needed for the kind of surgery to replace it and any of their bigger stations are too far away, so they asked us for help. The Republic was the closest Starfleet ship._

_And since the CMO was busy one of the other doctors needed to do the surgery. None of us have ever done it, but she trusted me enough to give me the job. Me! Can you believe it? I got to replicate and calibrate the new augment for the Andorian’s heart. I got to use all the things I’ve read about in the last few weeks._

_It was so amazing. I held a heart in my hand. I felt so powerful, but it was all so scary at the same time. I could have killed that Andorian. Look, I’m still shaking just thinking about it. Oh my god. I can’t wrap my head around it yet. I did it though. The Andorian is fine. The CMO was impressed. She’s giving me a commendation. Aaaaahhhh._

Hugh is shaking his hands next to his head, and it’s nice to see that he can be such a dork.

_I’m sorry. I just needed to tell you. I hope you don’t think I’m stupid or crazy. I just have so much adrenaline that needs to go somewhere. Sorry._

_Thanks for listening. You don’t need to answer to this. Just, thanks._

_Bye, babe._

Paul blushes at the last word. His cheeks hurt because he’s been grinning the whole time. Butterflies have taken residence in his stomach, and suddenly he thinks he understands why Hugh looked so giddy when Paul got his big message from Starfleet. He doesn’t even try to pretend that that wasn’t the most endearing thing he’s ever seen. Instead, Paul records a short congratulations message. There are hormones running through his bloodstream too, that need to go somewhere.

Maybe, if anyone can be trusted with a heart in his hand it’s Hugh Culber.


	8. Of Sleepless Nights and Concerned Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have watched a bit much anime which might have influenced scenes in this chapter (so has shit happening in my life...)
> 
> I quoted WhimsicalWonderings in this chapter. I hope that's ok ^_^
> 
> tw: vague descriptions of masturbation, threats and mentions of violence

Three months of increasingly effortless messages later it’s time to move to Earth. When Paul comes to work, all he sees are boxes and containers. His flat doesn’t look so different. There are just fewer boxes there because Paul doesn’t like clutter. And two years really aren’t enough time to amass a whole lot of stuff.

When he gets Starfleet’s message with all the important information on their departure, he almost drops his PADD. His face goes white, more white than usual that is. Paul storms out of his study, searching for Straal. He finds him in the kitchen with Nanami, chatting over some half-packed boxes.

“I hate you!” Nanami takes the hint immediately and flees from the kitchen. All their colleagues have seen them fight before. Usually it’s best to just leave them to it and get out of the line of fire. 

Straal looks unperturbed, sorting some plates and mugs into the box. He’s wearing a serene smile. “So you’re finally ready to talk?”

“I’m ready to rip off your head!” Paul takes a few deep breaths. He has to work hard to stay mad when Straal looks almost giddy. “So you really planned this? It didn’t just happen by accident?”

“Come on, Stamets! There are a thousand ships in the fleet. What are the odds that your boyfriend’s ship should be the one to transport us to Earth without any meddling?” Straal grins, proud like a little boy presenting the first fish he’s caught.

“How did you even know Hugh’s on the Republic?” Paul’s cheeks are burning. “And he’s not my boyfriend!”

“Easy. Back when you first met him, the Republic was the only Starfleet ship in orbit. There are five Hughs in the crew, but only one in the medical branch. You’re not the only one who can put two and two together.” Straal looks smug, and Paul has no idea what to say to that. “I used the same ability to find out that you’ve been different these last three months. So you can tell yourself that he isn’t your boyfriend if it makes you happy. But you can’t tell me.”

And that’s exactly why Paul hasn’t told anyone about the messages he’s been getting. Of course he’s read or reread some of Hugh’s letters at work and grinned at his PADD like an idiot, probably. But he was always so careful to never do it when anyone else was around. He was so sure that nobody noticed.

“How?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but you’ve been different somehow. Happier mostly.” Straal’s smile is kind, and suddenly Paul remembers that this is his best friend, and it’s unlikely that he has the intention to hurt Paul. He tends to forget such things when he’s defensive. “But that first day, after you said he just left, you seemed so distraught, so sad. I just had to do something. So I looked up his ship and his file. You know, just in case the girls and I needed to break his legs because he broke your heart or something.”

Paul is gaping at his friend. Normally Straal’s very opposed to violence. What the hell? Straal laughs as if the threat wasn’t serious, but there’s something in his eyes that makes Paul believe it was. Then the rest of what Straal said registers.

“You and the girls? Did you tell the others?”

“Didn’t have to. Breaking his legs was actually kind of Nanami’s idea. You never want to cross that woman!”

“What?”

“You might not have noticed, but Nanami and Viola really like you. They noticed that something was off about you, and they came to me to ask if I knew anything. When I told them I couldn’t tell them anything, they were already sure that it was because of a guy.”

“But why would they want to hurt Hugh?” The idea is so outlandish, Paul can’t contain himself.

“Because you spent several days roaming the lab, looking like a kicked puppy. Not eating, not sleeping, not talking, hiding behind work.” Straal looks really upset. It seems like he cares even more than Paul gives him credit for. “Even I felt like hitting Hugh in the face. Even after you told me that he didn’t really do anything. To the ladies it looked like some dude went and broke your heart. And they were not happy about that.”

“But why would they care?” Paul hopes his utter confusion is obvious on his face.

“They’re insanely protective of you. They kind of see you as their emotionally disadvantaged baby.” Straal shrugs. 

“Why?”

“What do I know? Maybe because sometimes you exhibit the emotional maturity of a walnut, Mr. I-don’t-do-love?”

Paul’s mouth falls open. He wants to feel insulted. He wants to glare, but all he can do is laugh. He has to laugh so hard that his eyes water. This is so absurd. Still, it’s nice to know how much the people in his life care about him, even when he doesn’t know how to tell them that he needs someone to care.

“I hate you,” he mutters after he’s tamed his laughter a bit. Straal is wheezing as well.

He looks very fond as he exclaims, “That’s totally normal. It’s just a sign that this lab and its workers have become a big dysfunctional family to you.”

“You can stress the dysfunctional!” They both start laughing all over again. And suddenly Paul isn’t sure why he was so angry with Straal a few minutes ago. What could be so bad about making their voyage to Earth on the Republic?

“Straal, how did that lead to you getting us a lift from Hugh’s ship?”

“That was for your sake actually. I thought you’d like to see him again. Because after that awful first week you had that glow again. So I guess the two of you made up.” Paul looks sceptical at that. “Oh, come on. Sometimes you had that grin on your face that I’ve never seen before. You went home earlier than usual at least once a week but not early enough to go on a date. So I was pretty sure you were in contact with him.”

“So you did this for me?” And suddenly Paul is close to tears for entirely different reasons than before. What a fucking rollercoaster of feelings! It’s overwhelming to know how much Straal cares. But Paul wouldn’t be Paul if he allowed himself to show his weakness – even to his best friend.

Straal seems to notice anyway. A small smile is on his face when he admits, “Oh, I also wanted to meet this miracle worker.”

“What?” Paul’s mind is instantly flooded with visions of Straal telling Hugh all the embarrassing things Paul did in the last two years. Just the thought is enough to make his skin burn red from his neck up to his hairline. 

“I need to give him the shovel talk after all.” Now Straal is next to Paul, throwing an arm over his shoulder. “If he’s your first real love, he needs to know that I have access to mushrooms that can cause the most horrible hallucinations before they kill him. Just in case he ever thinks of breaking your heart.” He manages to look eerily innocent as he says it.

It’s so hilarious that Paul even forgets to protest about the word love. Instead he laughs and shakes his head as he says, “I hate you.” Straal doesn’t have to add anything to that. So they leave the kitchen together, still giggling while their co-workers look confused.

 

Back home that night Paul finds himself unable to sleep. It’s two more days before they will board the Republic, and right now every minute separating him from Hugh feels like an eternity. He wonders what it’ll be like to see him again. He wonders if they can continue where they left off. The memories of Hugh’s smell, the feel of his muscles under Paul’s hands, the sensation of his fingertips against Paul’s neck, the taste of his lips are all suddenly tangible. When Paul closes his eyes he can almost believe Hugh never left, so vivid are his memories. It doesn’t take long for Paul to give in to his desire. He lets his own hands roam over his body while he imagines that it’s Hugh who’s touching him.

As so often before it doesn’t take long for that fantasy and his own practiced hands to push Paul over the edge. He lies in the darkness, panting and wondering if he’ll ever actually get to share this feeling with Hugh. It’s very possible that things between them will feel awkward after three months without real contact.

Out of the blue Paul remembers Straal’s words. It’s true that he hasn’t been on a date since Hugh left. And while longer periods without sex aren’t unusual for Paul, especially when he can lose himself in his work, three months is stretching it a bit. Until now he hasn’t taken the time to consider why he hasn’t felt like looking for a hook-up in that time. Normally sex would be his outlet for the kind of stress all the paperwork in the lab provides him with. But he hasn’t even so much as looked at one of his hook-up apps in those three months. And that wasn’t due to a lack of cravings.

The thought that all his cravings and desire are now focussed on Hugh makes Paul blush and feel pathetic. He’s so going to fuck this up – if not by being his usual socially awkward self then by coming in his pants like a horny teenager. He can’t remember ever wanting anyone as much as he wants Hugh. Oh shit!

Well, he’s not going to sleep tonight.

 

Two more days of not sleeping. Two more days of putting things in boxes, checking inventories, writing to Starfleet. Two more days of glaring at Straal whenever he looks like the word love might just come out of his mouth. Two more days of not really eating because his stomach feels funny and the butterflies never leave. Two more days of explaining to Nanami and Viola and his other co-workers that Hugh is the sweetest human being in the universe and that not a hair on his head is to be harmed. Two more days of counting the seconds whenever he’s alone.

It’s also two days of radio silence between Hugh and him. It feels like an unspoken agreement. Hugh hasn’t contacted Paul even though by now he must know that the Republic will transport him and his people to Earth. Paul has no idea why he can’t bring himself to send Hugh a message about this. All he comes up with is the fear that seeing the other man after so long might turn out awkward instead of awesome. And just the thought of talking it through beforehand makes him more uncomfortable. So it’s two days of trying not to ponder that particular possibility too much.

When those two very very long days are over Paul finally stands in the transporter room of the Republic. 

It’s stupid that he expected Hugh to be there upon his arrival. He knows that, but it doesn’t make the room feel less empty after he has scanned all the faces for those warm eyes, that shining smile. Paul swallows his disappointment. He follows as the Republic’s Commander leads him and Straal first to a cargo bay to check their inventory and later to their quarters. Each of their team members gets their own private room. Starfleet is practically treating them like royalty. Paul tries hard not to think about what he and Hugh could do in his own private quarters. Huh didn’t even show up to greet him after all. Paul knows that’s a petty thought, but it’s difficult to push it away.

Paul and Straal have a dinner invitation from the Captain, but they have lunch in the mess hall. From the moment they enter Paul’s eyes are drawn to a table occupied by a group of medical personnel in their white uniforms. Hugh is not among them, of course. He sighs.

“But they might know where he is. They’re his colleagues, right?” Paul glowers at Straal whose mind-reading abilities have risen to an almost creepy level. Or maybe his friend is just as anxious to finally see Hugh as Paul himself.Before Paul can start an argument, Straal changes the topic. “Why is that person looking at you like they want to kill you?” 

Paul follows his friend’s wary look. So far he hasn’t even noticed, but now he can see the piercing glares he’s getting from one of the medical officers. The person staring at him has dark eyes like Hugh, but unlike his they aren’t warm or inviting. They look cold and murderous instead. Even without turning around Paul can feel those nearly black eyes on him throughout the whole meal. He tries not to look over, to concentrate on his colleagues’ chatter. Still, the hair at the back of his neck is standing on end. Who is that? And what the fuck is their problem?

Right after Paul has swallowed the last bite of his food, a hand comes to rest on his shoulder. He almost jumps out of his skin with surprise. All chatter at the table has died, and everyone is looking at the spot just above his head. Paul takes a deep breath to fortify himself for whatever is to come. At least he’ll find out what’s going on. Right?

Upon turning around Paul is greeted by black eyes – deep as a pit of tar – glaring at him. They’re set in a long pale face that’s framed by shoulder-length pale pink hair. The way the person cocks their head to the side, studying him like prey, has something reptilian about it. Even though this is certainly a humanoid. Paul isn’t sure if it’s a man or a woman though or if such categories even apply. He has no time to ponder that though as the hand on his shoulder tightens like a claw and pulls him to his feet. He doesn’t have a choice but to move along if he doesn’t want to lose a big chunk of flesh.

“We need to talk.” The voice is high and as cold as the eyes. “Come with me.” No ifs or questions, just a simple order he has to obey.

Paul turns to his colleagues and answers their questioning looks with a shrug. That’s about all he has time for. Then the stranger guides him to a remote corner of the mess hall. Is it really significantly darker than the rest of the room or is Paul imagining that?

He can feel his heart beating in his throat when they sit down at a table. How can he be afraid of being murdered while they’re in a room full of people?

“Ensign Paul Stamets, right?” 

“Um, yes. Shouldn’t you make sure you have the right person before you make such a scene?” At least Paul isn’t too afraid to speak his mind as usual. Sadly, that’s probably only going to make his violent death more likely. “Who are you?”

They hold out a pale hand with a challenging look. Paul must look wary, but he still reaches over the table and grabs the offered hand. The other person’s grip is excruciating. It feels like all his fingers are about to break. They let go almost before the pain registers in Paul’s brain though. A simple demonstration of power followed by a smirk.

“I’m Mar, Hugh’s colleague and his roommate.”

Oh fuck! Suddenly Paul has quite a few ideas what this could be about. And even though Mar seems to be pretty pissed at him already, he can’t help but ask, “Then can you tell me where he is right now?”

“None of your business, Ensign Stamets. What would you want with him anyway?” Not surprising. Still, their icy voice sends chills down Paul’s back.

“I just want to see him.”

“Just? That’s a lot to ask. The last time you saw him in person you hurt him.” Mar glares at him. Paul isn’t quite sure what they’re referring to, but the anger sure looks sincere.

“What do you mean? We had a nice night before he left.” And he immediately knows what Mar means. After Hugh left, Paul let him hang in limbo for several days. His brows pull together and a blush creeps up Paul’s cheeks.

“You must know what you did. I only saw the fallout. For a whole week after we left Alpha Centauri he was distraught, but he wouldn’t tell me why. I could still see it though. He was distant with everyone. He hardly ate and slept. And he desperately tried to bury himself in work.”

Paul feels shame flood him. There’s a reason why he never thought too hard about how Hugh must have felt waiting for his message. He’s really sorry, but there is nothing he can do about it now. Right?

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Paul is embarrassed at how frantic he sounds. Why is it suddenly imperative that this stranger believes him? “I was confused and hurt after he left. I needed a while before I was ready to face whatever he’s feeling and whatever I’m feeling. It’s complicated. That’s why it took me so long to answer his message. I really didn’t want to hurt him.”

Mar seemingly makes sense of all this gibberish. “If that’s what you can do without trying, that only makes it worse.” Mar’s calm tone only makes their anger more terrifying. “Can you imagine how you could hurt him if you actually wanted to?”

“But I don’t want to hurt him!”

The stranger looks at him for a long time. “I believe you.” Their look doesn’t get any warmer though. “But I don’t care about your intentions. I care about the results of your actions. It’s bad enough that you’re callous.”

With a lightning-fast movement Mar reaches over the table and grabs one of Paul’s hands. They force it open, palm up, and trace Paul’s fingers with their own. He’s frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off Mar’s index finger moving over the lines of his hand.

“So the next time it gets complicated, and you’re unable to face your stupid little feelings, I need you to remember one thing. I’m a doctor. Not only can I name every bone in your hand, I can also break each single one of them.” Mar’s eyes don’t waver. This is no joke. They’re dead serious. “And I can put them back together with a bone-knitter before anyone notices.”

Mar lets go of Paul’s hand and smiles at him like the most innocent person in the universe. Damn! That change is almost more frightening than the previous display. If he hadn’t heard them say it with his own ears, he wouldn’t believe that this person was capable of such viciousness.

“So if you hurt Hugh again, I’ll hurt you. Are we clear?”

Paul nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. Mar smiles, looking satisfied. They get up and leave the mess hall without so much as another glance in Paul’s direction. Paul keeps looking after them the whole time, afraid to turn his back.

Moments later Straal lets himself drop onto the other chair with a loud thud. Paul has never been so happy to see him, probably. Before his best friend can say anything, he says, “If I don’t survive this journey, it’s because that person will have murdered me and there will be no evidence.” 

Straal chuckles at first but stops as he looks at Paul’s face. His eyes must be very wide. “How did you manage to make any enemy here so quickly?”

“What do you think?” Paul snorts, still a bit nervous but slowly calming down. “That was Hugh’s roommate. I just got a shovel talk.”

“Oh.” Straal looks solemn, as if this is a rite of passage he can’t say anything against. They sit in silence for a few more minutes before he starts talking again. “You want to hear some good news?”

“Good news?”

“While you got threatened over here, I asked the other medical officers if they knew where Doctor Culber is.” He grins. Paul is about to chide him, but Straal is faster. “He doesn’t have time today because he’s conducting a surgery on the CMO – of all people. He’s also been pulling double shifts the last two days to prepare for that. Sounds like he’s brilliant if the CMO lets him operate on her.”

A warm feeling spreads in Paul’s chest. Is that pride at Hugh’s achievements or relief that he probably isn’t avoiding Paul? He relishes it either way. Even the knowledge that Hugh has a friend on board the ship who’s so concerned about his feelings is somehow comforting. Scary but comforting.

Paul rides that feeling all through the afternoon and their dinner with the Captain. Luckily the man in reasonably intelligent and thus able to ask him and Straal a few interesting questions about their research.

It’s still early evening when Paul returns to his quarters, but there isn’t much left to do. He’d love to go to Hugh’s room to find out if he’s finally done with the big surgery. How long can that take really? There’s a big chance that all Paul will find in Hugh’s room is Mar though, and he’s so not ready to be alone with them. So he resigns himself to turning in early and gets ready for bed. He’s really tired anyway. All those sleepless nights are finally getting to him, it seems.

Paul has just got comfortable on his bed with a PADD in hand and dimmed the lights when he hears the door chime. That’s unexpected. His brow furrows as he goes to find out who his late visitor is. When the door opens, there’s Hugh. His warm brown eyes are only half open, the skin beneath his eyes looks dark and bluish from a lack of sleep, and his shoulders are slumped down.

He says, “Mar told me you’re here.” But Paul barely hears it. First he pulls Hugh into the room so that the door can slide closed behind him. Then he pulls Hugh close so that their lips can meet. The kiss is short but passionate. It knocks the breath out of Paul’s lungs. But who needs oxygen when he can have the taste of Hugh instead? He is here; in his arms; warm and real. That’s all that counts.

“I wanted to see you.” Hugh is slurring his words a bit. “But I’m really tired. Do you think I could sleep here?”

“Of course.” Paul can feel the pull in the corners of his mouth. He’s smiling so hard it’s almost painful.

Paul takes Hugh’s overnight bag from him and drops it next to the bed. Then he helps Hugh who seems to be too exhausted to undress on his own. He fumbles with the zippers at his boots and uniform jacket until Paul gently pushes his hands away and completes the more intricate tasks for him. It’s endearing somehow, and Paul’s cheeks get sore from smiling. How has he survived the last three months without this man?

Hugh strips down to his briefs and a black undershirt.

“Did the surgery go well?” Paul tries to keep it simple, not wanting to overtax Hugh’s tired brain.

“How do you know about that?” Huh doesn’t look like he really needs an answer. “It went well. It was just hard to concentrate for so long. My brain feels all mushy.”

“Well, you can relax now.” The fondness in his own voice should scare Paul, but for some reason it doesn’t.

Hugh is asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Paul lies down next to him and lowers the lights to 15%. He can’t bear to be in complete darkness because he wants to be able to look at Hugh. His face is completely relaxed, his mouth slightly open. It’s adorable, and without really thinking about it Paul starts gingerly stroking his hair.

Hugh gives a little content sigh and inches closer. Within moments he has draped himself around Paul’s body. His head is cradled against Paul’s shoulder, one arm lies on his chest and their legs are touching. Paul gasps at the sudden contact. Hugh’s skin is hot, and he’s heavy. Paul should feel uncomfortable, but somehow this has the opposite effect. He feels right and safe with the other man so close. So Paul wraps his arms around him and lets his fingers roam Hugh’s broad back.

Feeling those muscles up close and being surrounded by Hugh’s smell does things to Paul’s body. He gets hard just remembering how often he’s imagined having this man so close to him while touching himself. Just lying there with Hugh asleep is torturous. Paul desperately wants to reach for his own cock. But bringing himself off like that would be crossing a line without Hugh’s knowledge and consent.

So all he can do is lie there, stroke Hugh’s back and watch him sleep. Just that gives Paul more happiness than he could have ever imagined. And in the dark of the night he doesn’t feel the need to examine those feelings too closely. He just revels in them until he finally falls asleep as well.


	9. Saved by the Psychopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in this chapter that has to do with science or medicine is completely made up. Please, don't judge me.
> 
> Thanks to thewatch whose insightful comments have inspired a part of this chapter.

Paul wakes up to his alarm and soft fingers gently caressing his temple. It’s such a nice safe feeling that he keeps his eyes closed for another minute, just enjoying the sensation. When he does open his eyes, he’s greeted by a familiar smile. He can’t help but return it, the corners of his mouth moving upwards of their own accord.

If this is what waking up to someone feels like, maybe he should have tried it a lot earlier. But somehow Paul is sure that it wouldn’t have been as good with anyone other than Hugh. He yawns and steals a tiny kiss from the other man’s lips. He could get used to this.

Hugh yawns as well. Then he goes back to smiling. “That was nice.”

“What? Sleeping?” Maybe Paul is fishing. Maybe he needs to know that Hugh enjoys this as much as he does.

Hugh traces Paul’s ear with his fingers, then his jaw as he answers, “Yes, sleeping, because I haven’t really done that in days. And sleeping next to you, being held by you. That was amazing.” His fingers have reached the tendons on Paul’s neck and are wandering further down to his collarbone. “Oh, and watching you sleep was nice too. It’s still adorable.”

“What a creep!” Paul tries not to blush. Hugh’s smug grin tells him that it isn’t working. So he tries distracting Hugh instead. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

Now it’s Hugh’s turn to blush. And suddenly Paul gets why Hugh seems to enjoy it so much when Paul’s face turns red. It’s endearing to see that he has such an immediate effect on someone.

“To be honest I was too excited about seeing you again.”

“Me too.” The words are out before Paul has time to think about it. He’s rewarded with a relieved sigh from Hugh.

“And I put in some overtime and switched some shifts so I’d be free today and tomorrow. I wanted to be able to spend some time with you.” Hugh is glowing, but he pauses. “Only if you want to, of course.”

Oh. Paul never considered that Hugh could be insecure as well. He always seemed so confident. He has to laugh at his own ignorance. “Of course I want to. You might have to contend with my friends though.” Hugh doesn’t look like he minds.

Paul sits up. They should better get ready. Straal will come and get him so they can have breakfast together soon. But before he can go anywhere, Paul remembers Hugh’s words from last night. “Speaking of friends, you said Mar told you that I was here.”

Hugh’s face goes pale. “You’ve met Mar? How bad was it?” Paul nods in answer to the first question. He tries not to look as terrified as that meeting made him feel. It seems he’s unsuccessful because Hugh says, “Ah! I told them to leave you alone. I’m so sorry. What did Mar say to you?”

He looks positively horrified, and Paul takes pity on him. “Mar just told me that it was very … inconsiderate of me to make you wait so long for my first message.” Hugh raises an eyebrow, making it clear that he doesn’t believe that version of the story. “I’m sorry about that by the way. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Paul looks down at his hands, which are kneading his blanket.

Hugh reaches for his hands and carefully unclenches them from the blanket. He holds Paul’s fingers in his hands, stroking them slowly. “It’s alright. It wasn’t very considerate of me to leave while you were asleep either. I’m sorry about that too.” Paul looks at their hands. They look good together, right somehow. “Mar is just upset because as my roommate they got a front-row seat to my moping. Mar is a Betazoid, you know, but they’re still really bad at pulling up barriers against others’ minds. They’ve gotten good at not unintentionally reading someone’s thoughts. But emotions, especially strong ones get through to them a lot. And Mar and I spend a lot of time together. So it was impossible for them to tune out my misery and confusion. I hope they didn’t intimidate you too much.”

“It’s fine, really.” No wonder Mar was so worried about Hugh if they’re basically taking part in his emotions. Paul’s friends have no such excuses.

Paul lets go of Hugh’s hands hesitantly. He doesn’t want this to end yet, but he also doesn’t want to be caught in his pyjamas with Hugh still in his bed when Straal arrives. “We should get up. We have a breakfast date in half an hour.”

“Oh, of course.” Hugh looks a bit disappointed but obediently scoots over to the edge of the bed. 

Paul goes to the bathroom first. He doesn’t need much time. About twenty minutes later Paul is dressed and ready. He has just heard Hugh switch off the shower. That’s when he hears the door chime. Straal is early. Damn him!

The bad thing about automatic sliding doors is that you can’t really open them partway. So Paul has to plant his feet and tries to block the whole doorway while he bids his best friend good morning. Straal is fast and sneaky though. He leans in to hug Paul, which is very atypical. Then he uses Paul’s confusion to manoeuvre them sideways, and just like that he’s slipped through the door into Paul’s room. The door closes behind him. At the same time the bathroom door slides open, and Hugh steps out, wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs. Wonderful!

Right now Paul wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh, sorry,” Straal hurries to say, “I didn’t expect that Paul would have company.” The wide grin on his face suggests otherwise. “I’m Straal.”

“I’m Hugh.” He looks absolutely unfazed as he grabs the clothes he’s brought in his bag. Paul wants to shake him and ask how the hell he’s staying so calm. “Nice to meet you, Straal.” Hugh smiles his trademark smile, and Paul feels a twist in his gut. Is this jealousy? Just because Hugh is giving that smile to someone else but him? Ridiculous! The way Straal ogles Hugh while his naked skin disappears bit by bit under his clothes doesn’t help at all.

As soon as Hugh is dressed, they go to the mess hall together. Straal lets Hugh take the lead, and when he and Paul are out of earshot, he whispers to Paul, “You know I’m not into men, but damn! He’s hot! Congratulations, Stamets!” Paul blushes furiously, but he’s also smiling like a dork. What could he possibly say against that?

When they arrive at the mess hall, some of Hugh’s colleagues are already there and wave them over to their table. Paul is so relieved that Mar isn’t among them that he forgets how uncomfortable big groups of strangers can make him. The doctors and nurses seem nice and cheerful. They easily welcome Straal and Paul into their midst. 

They are greeted with excitement and Hugh proceeds to introduce his co-workers. “This is Doctor Vishal Singh.” He indicates a dark-skinned, black-haired man. “Nurse Melitta Meyer.” Hugh points to an older woman with short blond hair and a pretty angular face. “Doctor Rheina Wala.” A soft-looking woman with pale purple skin waves sweetly at them. It’s impossible to guess her age, and Paul doesn’t know what species she belongs to. “Nurse Ryan Mbata.” Hugh indicates a young man with dark brown skin and reddish blond curly hair. It’s a stunning look. Something about the dreamy look in his eyes when they rest on Hugh doesn’t sit well with Paul though. “And this is Nurse Karalyn Chen.”

“Oh, why so formal, Hugh? Come on! Call me Kara please.” She’s a bubbly woman, all easy smiles and swishing dark hair. Paul’s unsure if she’s fully human. There’s a pixie-like quality to her. She asks, “And you are?”

Paul is still trying to memorise their names as if he’ll be quizzed on them later. Weirdly physics texts and formulas and the parts of cells are easy to remember, but he’s never quite mastered the subtle art of matching names and faces. And there are so many of them. It feels a bit like his first day at school or his first day at the Academy or his first day in the lab on Alpha Centauri. Each of those was disastrous. Since Paul is still busy processing, Straal answers for both of them, “I’m Straal and that’s Paul.”

“Nice to meet you … Paul!” Karalyn puts a weird stress on his name, and she looks at him like she knows something she shouldn’t. Paul immediately feels like he needs to be on his guard. It’s really like his first day at school. Ugh.

He doesn’t have time to ponder it any further though. The others have started congratulating Hugh on his successful surgery, and that makes pride swell in Paul’s chest again. 

One of the other men, another doctor, probably, says, “I still can’t believe she’d let you operate on her brain, Culber! You’re still so green!” It’s said in good humour and Hugh shrugs it off. Paul feels a little less benevolent.

Before he can say anything though, the older nurse comes to Hugh’s aid. “He put in the hours though. He’s been studying medical augments, artificial organs and transplants for months now. And last month when he operated on that Andorian, Doctor Ngosi saw that he had the guts to go through with it. So who else would she have chosen for the job?” There’s a challenge in her eyes, and Paul wants to applaud her. 

“So what exactly did you do, Hugh?” Straal asks before Paul has a chance to do it. Way to go showing his interest in Hugh’s work! Paul listens intently though.

“Doctor Ngosi, our CMO, has a condition that makes the blood vessels in her head prone to swelling and clotting. Up to now she needed to have regular brain scans and surgeries whenever there was the danger of a stroke. It wasn’t life-threatening but pretty inconvenient, taking her out for days at a time. Now there are brand new augments that can be implanted in the brain to replace the blood vessels completely. It was a big surgery because she wanted me to do them all at once. It was super exciting, but I was so exhausted afterwards.” 

“Wow!” Straal looks as impressed as Paul feels. He wants to express his amazement and pride somehow, but in front of all these strangers he’s having difficulties. So he stays silent as the other doctors pat Hugh on the back.

“And so you were too tired to celebrate with us afterwards?” It sounds accusatory, but the purple-skinned woman is smiling fondly.

Hugh blushes, but Paul isn’t sure if anyone else at the table even notices. It’s a soft hue of pink on normally tan skin. Paul himself only sees it because he seems to be looking at Hugh’s face constantly, cataloguing every minute change. When has he started doing that exactly?

“I was so tired I pretty much fell asleep right after the surgery.”

Karalyn sounds intrigued by that answer. “Oh, then I’d like to know where exactly you fell asleep, Hugh.” Her voice is sweet as honey. Still, Hugh looks shocked. “Because I went over to your room at 2100 hours so we could listen to La Bohème together to celebrate. But Mar told me you weren’t there. So where did you fall asleep, Hugh?” Hugh looks over at Paul as if he’s unsure how much he’s allowed to say.

Paul doesn’t consider it for too long. His friends and colleagues know what’s up too, and Hugh seemed ok with that. So he says nonchalantly, “He fell asleep in my room.” Suddenly all eyes are on him, and he has to try hard not to fidget under the intense scrutiny. Hugh looks even more shocked than before but not like Paul said something wrong.

Karalyn looks like the cat that got the cream. “Oh, so you’re his mystery boyfriend.”

Paul can’t help it. He has to say, “Oh no. He was just so tired that he got lost on the way to his quarters. So he ended up in mine, and I didn’t have it in me to throw him out. He looked like he desperately needed the sleep.” Years of practice help him to keep an absolutely straight face. 

Paul can see the gears in Karalyn’s head working. The others at the table look just as confused. It’s Straal who cracks up first. He’s used to Paul’s sarcasm after all. Hugh follows instantly, and one by one the others join into their laughter. That’s a nice change. Usually Paul’s sarcasm only serves to complicate things not to defuse tense situations.

Hugh takes Paul’s hand –on the table, for everyone to see. Then he pulls it close and presses a kiss on Paul’s knuckles. Karalyn and Doctor Wala, the one with the purple skin, squeal with excitement. Paul can feel his cheeks burning, but he isn’t really embarrassed. He feels proud that Hugh acknowledges whatever this is they have in front of everyone. His feelings only sink when he notices that the male nurse, Mbata, is pointedly looking away from them.

But Karalyn is at it again before Paul has time to ponder the other man’s feelings. She bombards Paul with questions because she needs to know everything about Hugh’s new boo. Everything! Does he like opera? What kind of music does he like then? Can he dance? Has he danced with Hugh yet? Is Hugh a good dancer? What are Paul’s hobbies? It’s nowhere near as charming as when Hugh wanted to know the very same things about him.

Paul becomes overwhelmed as soon as the questions require more than one-word answers. “I don’t really need hobbies. I do what I like for a living.”

“And that is?” The doctor with the purple skin sounds a little calmer than Karalyn. And she’s asking the good questions.

“I’m an astromycologist.” Now that’s something Paul can talk about all day.

“You study mushrooms in space?” Mbata sounds incredulous and looks less than impressed.

Before Paul can say something, Straal interjects, “You say that like it’s not the most amazing job in the world, which it totally is!” That has everyone laughing.

Still, Paul has to add, “And we’re not specifically looking at the mushrooms. Lately we’ve been studying their spores and how they interact with spacetime on a quantum level.” Did that sound bitter to everyone or just to him?

Doctor Wala gives him an empty look, and Nurse Mbata mimics a yawn. Paul has to bite his tongue before he can say something mean. Those people don’t have to share or even understand his passions. That’s totally fine. Except that it isn’t. It’s eating away at him. And the fact that at some point Hugh has let go of his hand in order to continue eating doesn’t help one bit.

“If you know a lot about spores, maybe you can help me with my latest project.” The whole table groans.

“Singh! You’re not pulling him into your work. He’s had enough to do these past few weeks. He deserves a break!” Hugh’s louder than usual, and he sounds really annoyed. It makes Paul uncomfortable even though it isn’t directed at him. It’s just a side of Hugh he isn’t used to yet. 

“Oh, come on, Culber! He said he likes studying his spores.” Paul furrows his brow, unhappy with the way this man talks about him as if he weren’t sitting right there. Doctor Singh seems undeterred and talks to him now. “I plan on studying if we could expose cancer patients to spores. The ergosterol could influence the cancer cells right? Maybe you could help me to design an experiment like…”

Paul pulls up an eyebrow. “That’s not going to work. You don’t need to design anything because an experiment like that would be totally inefficient. Actually there’s next to no ergosterol present in the spores, no matter which types of mushrooms you choose to work with. I’m pretty sure spores alone won’t have any significant medical effect.” Singh’s face falls. Paul wonders if he could have said that nicer somehow. But honestly the man hasn’t even done the minimum of research if he doesn’t know such fundamental things. How is this his fault? He automatically looks over to Hugh, wondering how he’s perceiving the situation.

Before he can read Hugh’s reaction, Doctor Wala snatches away his attention though. She exclaims, “Ah! Now I know where I know you from!” Paul looks at her. He can feel his face screwing up in confusion. He’s not the only one at the table. “The whole time I kept thinking that I knew you from somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where I might have seen you before. But the way you just corrected Vishal brought back some memories. Starfleet Academy, Biology 101 with Professor Hargrove.”

“That was awful.” Paul remembers the class, mainly because it was on Monday mornings and he regularly fell asleep during it. He also has vague memories of a stupid old man who tried to make his life hell. Good times!

“Yes, it was so awful.” Wala seems really excited now. Paul notes that Hugh seems to be listening intently. He hopes against hope that this won’t be a story of how he made an ass of himself. 

“I took that course with my best friend, Natasha. She was in the security branch, real sporty girl, not good at science though. We were sitting right in the front so we could concentrate better. And in the very first session Hargrove asked her a question. She was so nervous and really terrified of getting it wrong right from the start. But she was lucky. He asked her something about muscle development. And before the Academy she did something with sports and nutritional science. So she totally knew the right answer to that question. She might have stuttered a bit, but it came out alright.” It’s interesting how animated her soft face looks, now that she’s telling the story. 

“But when she was done, Hargrove just looked at her like she was so stupid. He mocked her and explained why she was totally wrong. I swear I wanted to punch that guy. Natasha was about to cry. And then suddenly someone in the last row got up and was like, actually she is completely right and you are wrong because. He explained it to Hargrove, sounding all condescending. And Hargrove was fuming, but there was nothing he could say against it. That dumbass Hargrove found his match that day!” Paul barely remembers that incident. His memories of the fallout are vivid though. He almost failed that class. “And that was you, right, Paul?” Doctor Wala’s eyes are shining. He doesn’t know what exactly she’s expecting of him.

“Professor Hargrove hated me after that.”

“But you were our hero for the rest of the year. Natasha totally had a crush on you, but she never dared to talk to you.” Everyone is looking at Paul again, and he doesn’t know how to handle that. He waves his hand, as if to say that it was nothing special. It really wasn’t. It’s not like he’s actually done anything heroic. He barely even remembers doing anything at all. Hugh catches his hand though and holds on to it for a moment and then lets it go again. Paul has no idea what to make of that.

He says, “It’s probably good that she didn’t try to talk to me. I would just have been rude to her or something. And that would have been bad. So …” There’s a long pause, filled by the sounds of cutlery scraping against plates. Luckily they’re almost done eating. Paul can’t wait to be alone with Hugh again. People are beyond exhausting.

It’s Karalyn – of course – who starts the conversation again. “So Paul, what do you like most about Hugh?” He almost drops his fork. Is he really so socially inadequate or is this in fact an inappropriate question? Help!

Everyone’s looking at him once again, and Paul can feel his blood rushing to the skin of his face. Maybe it’ll make his head explode. That would be nice. At least then he’d get out of answering that question. He’s so flabbergasted that he can’t even begin to consider an answer. 

“Don’t be so nosey, Kara! That’s really none of your business.” The high voice comes from behind Karalyn, and Paul can see a pale hand on her shoulder. Saved by the psychopath. “Leave them alone and hurry up. You promised we’d do our workout together after breakfast.” Karalyn doesn’t look as terrified as Paul must have yesterday. Still, she seems to be embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.” And Paul believes it. The way her voice is barely audible now, the way she’s looking down at her food instead of them; they are dead giveaways. 

“It’s ok. Don’t worry about it.” The words are out of Paul’s mouth before he even knows he wanted to say them. He can relate to this, to being unable to shut up when the situation would require it, to saying or asking the wrong things. Karalyn didn’t mean to be rude so he really doesn’t have a reason to be mad at her. Hugh grabs his hand again. And this time he doesn’t let go until they’re done eating.

Karalyn finishes first and excuses herself to slip over to Mar who has been waiting near the door. Paul smiles at Mar, trying to convey his thanks. He has no idea if Mar intervened for his sake, but no matter what their intentions were, they helped him immensely. Mar gives him a tight-lipped smile that looks nothing like their innocent mask from yesterday. So it might be genuine.

The rest of the meal is spent with ship’s gossip and a few questions to Straal. Hugh and Paul hold hands and eat in silence. Their only part in the conversation is to join in with the laughter when it’s appropriate. Still, Paul is so glad when breakfast is finally over, and he can take Hugh back to his private room.


	10. But After Such a Rude Exchange Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this chapter, but I don't see how I can make it any better at the moment and I wanted to have it out of the way. Gaaaahhhh...
> 
> This contains the first sex scene I've ever written and published. Don't hate me! Serious advice is always welcome.
> 
> Credits to my best friend Claudi who reminded me that I could insert a talk instead of having them use "space condoms".
> 
>  
> 
> tw: sex at the end, blowjob, handjob

Right after they have entered the room, Paul lets himself fall onto the bed with a heavy thud. “That was exhausting.”

“Sorry, they got a bit out of hand.” Hugh sits next to him and lets his fingers wander over a bit of pale skin where Paul’s shirt has ridden up. “They’re all very nice once you get to know them. All of us are a bit too nosy for our own good though. It’s just that medical is kind of the gossip factory of the ship, what with us having too much time on our hands and regular contact to almost every crew member. It’s hard to shake that habit sometimes.”

Paul tries to imagine Hugh gossiping with his friends, smiling and witty. He held himself back at breakfast, seemingly more preoccupied with what Paul had to say. But Paul can easily visualise Hugh as the centre of attention at that table, entertaining the others, making them laugh. And once again he wonders what this man sees in him.

Paul stretches like a cat, exposing a bit more of his skin to Hugh’s wandering fingers. “I don’t doubt that they’re nice, especially Karalyn and Meyer. But I find people in general exhausting and more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Even your friends?”

“Especially my friends!” Hugh pulls up an eyebrow so Paul hurries to explain, “They’re especially exhausting because I want to spend time with them and can’t just ignore them most of the time. They’re not more trouble than they’re worth though.” Hugh still looks a little incredulous, but he’s smiling. So Paul hasn’t revealed too much of his misanthropy, probably. “You’ll understand once you’ve met all of them. They’ll have a lot of questions.”

“Like Kara?” Hugh looks a little embarrassed. Good. Paul doesn’t want to be the only one who feels like he needs to be ashamed of his friends.

“Very much like Karalyn.” Paul bats Hugh’s hand away with a little glare when he pokes a ticklish spot. “What do you think why Mar intervened?” He tries to sound impassive, but some of his worry is coming through.

“They probably heard me screaming in my mind from the other end of the ship and rushed over to save me.” Hugh laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Paul busies his fingers pulling his shirt down over his stomach again. He doesn’t look up at Hugh while he asks, “Didn’t you want an answer to Karalyn’s question?” Paul’s brows are pulling together automatically. He feels like such a disappointment. Maybe Mar only jumped in so that Hugh wouldn’t have to bear his stammering or inability to answer the question at all. What does it matter that someone likes you when he’s not even able to express why? Shit!

Hugh lies down next to Paul so that they’re on the same level. His eyes catch Paul’s. They’re big and soft and warm. He reaches for Paul’s hand again before he speaks, “Of course I’d like to know the answer to that question sometime. Mainly because I want to crank up whatever it is you like about me.” Paul sees a glimpse of insecurity in Hugh’s mischievous smile. And suddenly he can breathe a lot easier. “But I understand that right now it’s a difficult question to answer. Especially when you’re put on the spot in front of so many strangers. It’s a very personal question after all.” Paul exhales in relief. This shouldn’t matter so much to him, but it does. It’s embarrassingly important to him what Hugh thinks.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?” Paul looks up from under his blond lashes.

Hugh looks over a t him, his smile a little crooked. “You can always ask me. We’ll see if I can answer right now.”

“In the café on Alpha Centauri why did you come over to me even though I was so rude to you?”

Hugh’s face lights up immediately. Apparently that’s an easy question to answer. Not what Paul expected. “You weren’t that rude.” Hugh chuckles. “You said please after all.”

Paul turns his face to the side so he can hide it against the blanket. Hugh reaches over and lazily caresses his neck. He doesn’t stop until Paul gets the message and looks back up at him. Oh. The warmth in Hugh’s eyes melts something in Paul’s chest and for at least a minute he forgets how to breathe entirely. 

“Okay. I’ll try to find the right words. You were open and honest about what you felt, and I liked that.” Hugh’s shining eyes only serve to make the situation more surreal to Paul. He snorts in derision, which earns him a questioning look.

“You might be the first person ever to … appreciate that I just blurt out whatever comes into my mind.” Paul tries hard not to sound bitter but fails miserably. That‘s probably what prompts Hugh to interlace their fingers and hold on to Paul’s hand a little tighter. It’s a gesture so sweet and pure it makes bile rise up in Paul’s throat. Still, he can’t bring himself to let go of Hugh’s hand, his anchor to the here and now.

They stay silent for a long time. There’s a lump in Paul’s throat the size of his fist. He tries to swallow around it and waits until there are no tears lurking behind his eyes anymore. Only then does he take a deep breath and speak again.

“My big mouth only ever got me in trouble. My parents certainly didn’t … like that I needed to voice my thoughts on everything. They made it pretty clear that they would have preferred for me to be quiet.” Hugh’s grip on his hand tightens by a fraction. That’s his only reaction though. “And in school the other kids thought I was weird. Of course they did. I liked weird stuff like mushrooms and bugs and maths. And since I didn’t have the common sense to shut up about it, they bullied me.” Paul is honestly surprised at how calmly he can say that. “Later at the Academy the students were more subtle about it. I clicked with the other geeks. But still, nobody really likes you if you’re a loud-mouthed know-it-all. Just like that incident Doctor Wala talked about. Professor Hargrove was so pissed at me that he let me fail the class even though I could have taught it better than he did. I had to consult with countless faculty members and retake the exam before the Academy forced him to let me pass. And for what? I certainly didn’t do it for that Natasha or even for me. I was just mildly annoyed by him and couldn’t keep my fucking mouth shut.”

Hugh looks at him with wonder as if he can see something about Paul that he can’t see himself, like he just grew a pair of wings or something. It’s cute but so confusing that it almost makes him angry. Hugh says, “It’s still commendable. Speaking out when something is bothering you is brave. Especially if you stand up to people who are in power. It might not seem important for every instant it comes out, but it is an important quality in a person.”

“Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity. And I’m not even brave. I just have poor impulse control.”

“I think it’s sad that you can only see it that way. But the reason for your honesty doesn’t change that to me it’s a valuable trait.” Paul frowns. This sounds too much like pity to give him any comfort.

“Let me explain. Maybe I can make you understand or at least believe me.” Paul nods. There’s nothing more he can say about this anyway. “Have you ever been stationed on a ship for a longer time?” He shakes his head. “Well, I’ve been on the Republic for quite a while. And while they train us and do psych evals and all that before they send us off into space, there are some things the Academy doesn’t prepare you for.” Paul’s brow furrows. Now he’s curious where this might be going.

“A ship is basically just a giant can filled with people. Of course you have your R&R areas and activities, but at the end of the day you share close quarters with 200 people and there’s nowhere to go if you don’t feel like seeing any of them. That does something to people. Add to that a more or less rigid command structure and things can get explosive. If there’s nowhere to go you kind of have to get along with people. So everyone tries to avoid conflict at all cost. I don’t know if it’s different on other ships, but on the Republic it’s led to people being overtly nice and friendly and never really saying how they feel about anything. I mean, nobody is like outright lying. But they’re all so placid and it seems forced, artificial. Can you imagine that?”

Paul nods. He doesn’t say that that’s kind of like the whole world feels to him. But he can easily imagine how this effect is amplified by the situation on a starship. He’s never been in space long enough to really experience it though. Apart from that Paul is sure that he could at least avoid some of it by hiding away in engineering with the people who at least ticked the same way he did. As a doctor who has to take care of all crew members Hugh doesn’t have that luxury.

“And I absolutely hate this atmosphere. It’s so exhausting. So I get when you say you find people exhausting. Me too. Just in different situations. It took me quite a while before I even had the words for what was bothering me. It’s just very different from how I grew up. In our family brutal honesty was the rule. When my mom or my sisters were mad at me they wanted me to know. It could get loud and nasty, and all of us gave as good as we got. But at least after a big fight you were done with it. You know? It clears the air.”

Paul doesn’t know. That kind of honesty and openness wasn’t practiced in his family. He suspects that’s exactly why his parents were so put out by his inability to stay quiet about certain things. Still, he nods because he wants to know more.

“So that’s what I was used to. At least at home when someone was angry at me I could apologise or fight. That I can deal with. It’s fine. But here on the Republic such things are incredibly complicated. Everyone makes nice so you never quite know if someone is mad at you. And if you know that they are, they will deny it and won’t tell you why they’re angry. And then there’s this whole intricate dance you have to do to fix it. It’s draining and frustrating. I mean I can do it. I’m getting used to it. But it’s not how I want to live.”

Paul nods. For once it’s his turn to hold Hugh’s hand tighter and stroke his fingers, hoping that it will calm him down a little. Seeing Hugh’s distress is difficult for Paul. He wants to hold him and protect him, but he also knows that he needs to let him talk.

“So now you know the situation I was coming from. Alpha Centauri was my first shore leave for months. And there you were, being adorably blunt about how much I was annoying you. That was refreshing. And impressive. I was impressed by your honesty. Same goes for the story of you standing up to your prof. I’m impressed.”

Paul can feel himself smiling. His face is mirroring the expression on Hugh’s. Now he does believe him, and he feels incredibly lucky. Who would have thought that his big snarky mouth of all things would be exactly what another person needed? 

“Oh, and of course the fact that you’re so handsome and very cute when you’re blushing was helpful too. But I guess you already know that.” Hugh chuckles.

“Of course I know I’m handsome and cute. But that impression usually only lasts until I say something rude.” Paul gives a long-suffering sigh. Hugh takes that as a cue to shut him up with a kiss.

The kiss seems to last forever. Whenever Paul is sure, Hugh will pull away any moment, he just doesn’t. His full lips remain right there on Paul’s. Tongues dancing lazily. When the kiss ends after all, Paul wonders if his eyes are as glazed as Hugh’s. Probably.

“Are you satisfied with that answer?” Hugh looks like he knows the answer to that question already.

“Very.”

Paul senses Hugh coming closer for another kiss. For a moment there are two forces struggling within him. Part of him wants to stay on this bed with Hugh all day. They’d kiss and touch and go further. Another part of him has other plans though. He wants to, needs to prove – more to himself than to Hugh – that he’s capable of more than that, that he’s more than a nice flirt and a hot fuck.

So Paul takes one decisive breath. Then he sits up before Hugh’s lips are on his again. He scoots off the bed and gets his bag. Hugh looks disappointed, but he doesn’t say anything. Paul isn’t sure which of the two bothers him more.

“I have something for you.” He pulls out three data rods and shows them to Hugh.

“What’s that?”

“One is the coursework for Engineering 101 at the Academy. The other two are for further reading.” Hugh gives Paul a questioning look.

“You seemed very interested in augments and transplants and bionics. I thought at some point you might want to go into medical engineering. But for that you would need to know all the basics of engineering.” Understanding dawns on Hugh’s face and his eyes are smiling somehow even though his lips haven’t got the memo yet. “Most of it is maths, which is a bit dry and sometimes complicated to learn on your own. So I thought while I’m here I could help you with it. But only if you’re even interested, of course.” 

Paul hands Hugh the data rods. He cradles them close to his chest like they’re some precious treasure. “I’m very interested. But are you sure that’s how you want to spend your free time on the Republic? Don’ you need a break from work?” There’s worry in those big brown eyes.

“It’s fine. You’d actually be doing me a favour. Remember? I told you Star Fleet might want me to teach classes at the Academy. So I very much need to practice explaining things.” Hugh grins a little at that – probably imagining Paul in front of a class. “And it’s probably a good idea to start with a student I like. Hopefully that lowers the chance of me strangling anyone.” Paul smiles innocently, but it takes a moment before Hugh laughs at this. And for that moment Paul wonders if he can actually pull this teaching thing off.

“Also if you feel guilty about taking up my free time, I’d be partial to getting another massage tonight.” Paul is still going for perfectly innocent. He doesn’t know if it’s working because now Hugh laughs in earnest. Then he pulls him in for another kiss and nothing matters for the next few minutes.

So they spend the whole day bent over Paul’s PADD, going through calculations. They’re comfortably close. Their legs and shoulders are touching. Hugh keeps stealing kisses from Paul whenever he’s too fast or explains something in a way that’s still far too complicated. Paul takes Hugh’s hand and kisses his knuckles whenever Hugh solves a particularly difficult problem. He’s proud of Hugh for understanding everything so quickly and working so hard. He’s also pretty proud of himself for not getting exasperated or angry at him when there’s something he doesn’t understand right away. Actually this is great practice for Paul as well. He notices how his own understanding of some issues deepens or shifts just because he has to explain them on a very elementary level. Maybe he should do this more often.

All in all it’s one of the best days outside of work Paul can remember. They skip lunch and go to dinner early in order to avoid running into any of their friends. Both of them have had enough nosy company for one day.

As soon as they’ve sat down at a table for two in the mess hall, Paul starts quizzing Hugh on the things they’ve talked about so far.

“Woah! I forgot it again. I feel really stupid.” Hugh sounds nonchalant about it, but he looks serious. “Maths is difficult.”

“You’re doing great, Hugh. We’ve just worked through the coursework for half a semester in a few hours. You just need a little more practice. So don’t sell yourself short. You’re actually really smart.”

Hugh’s smile is brilliant. He has that glow again, and the fact that he’s the reason for it makes Paul’s heart beat faster. “I feel like that’s the biggest compliment you can give to anyone, Paul Stamets.” That’s probably true. “And you’re actually really patient.”

Paul has to laugh so hard he almost spits out the tea he’s been drinking. “Yeah, I’m known for my patience far and wide.” Hugh laughs as well. “No, really. That’s just you bringing out that virtue in me. Normally I get pissed as hell if I have to explain anything twice.” 

“Hmmm. And I guess your students won’t be able to calm you down with kisses.” Now Paul is almost sliding off his chair he’s laughing so hard.

“Oh my god! I hope they won’ try.”

When they’re finished eating, Paul and Hugh part ways for a bit. Hugh wants to work out and get a few things from his room. Paul goes to his quarters and showers in preparation of that massage. Then he lies on his bed, stares at the streaks of starlight outside the viewport and wonders how far he and Hugh will go tonight.

The last time he assumed that Hugh meant sex when he said “massage”, Paul was sorely mistaken. The kisses they shared this morning though felt like Hugh wanted more as well. And suddenly, even though this is the part he’s familiar with and frankly quite good at, Paul is terribly nervous. There are so many things that could go wrong, and he has more than an hour to ponder each and every one of them.

By the time Hugh comes back to his room, Paul is a buzzing ball of nerves, pacing back and forth. And Hugh sees it of course. He’s perceptive like that. Without a word he pulls Paul close and embraces him. The way their bodies are pressed togetheris calming. Paul can feel his own breathing and his heartbeat match Hugh’s. His muscles relax a bit as if he can let go as soon as Hugh is holding him.

“Are you ok?” Hugh whispers it next to his ear.

“I’m fine.” And it’s true. Paul is still nervous. But now it feels like there are butterflies in his stomach rather than a blade of ice.

“You want your massage now?”

“Yes, dear doctor.” Paul is surprised by how husky his voice sounds, but he doesn’t mind. Hopefully Hugh will get the hint.

“Then undress.”

Paul does. Hugh strips as well. In short order they find themselves in their briefs again. All of it feels familiar – the way Hugh’s body looks stunning to Paul and the way Hugh’s eyes roam over his own pale form. It still fills Paul with an odd sense of pride. It’s still a bit unbelievable that such a man should find him beautiful. 

They sit down on the bed as Hugh takes out the scented massage oil again. 

“You look tense just sitting there, Paul. It’s a miracle you can still move at all!” He’s smiling, but there’s some real reprimand in his tone. Always the doctor.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear doctor. But my last thorough massage was three months ago.” Paul pulls up his eyebrows to match the innocent tone.

Hugh plays along. “Very irresponsible.” Then his eyes get darker as his pupils widen. “May I ask when your last thorough medical assessment was?” Oh. So apparently Hugh wants to give him more than just a massage. Great news!

“Two months ago. It came back negative for everything. I’m not contagious.” For once Paul is grateful that regular thorough medical tests are obligatory for all Starfleet personnel. “What about you?”

“That was five months ago and negative as well.” Paul can’t suppress a questioning look. “I haven’t had sex with anyone in the meantime.”

“What?” Once more Paul curses his inability to keep his stupid mouth shut. But really!

“It’s not that unbelievable.” Hugh doesn’t seem too bothered by Paul’s reaction. “Such things are a little complicated when you have a roommate.”

“Oh, come on! That’s never stopped anyone at the Academy. And if you’re not into semi-public sex in front of your roommate, you get creative.” Paul forcibly closes his mouth with a loud click before any more stupid words can come out.

Meanwhile a huge grin splits Hugh’s face. “Well, that’s a story begging to be told.” When Paul proceeds to bite his lip and refuses to speak, Hugh continues, “Maybe nobody on the Republic was worth getting creative for.” And that’s all of that. Thankfully.

Hugh guides Paul to lie on his stomach. This time, instead of kneeling next to him, he straddles Paul’s ass. That’s not the only thing that’s different though. The things Hugh does to Paul’s back are the same, but the whole atmosphere is different. It’s heavy with tension. Paul is hyperaware of each area of skin Hugh’s strong hands are working on. He can feel his muscles unclench and relax. Other parts of his body react in the opposite way. And Hugh’s sizable erection, carelessly rubbing against his ass and lower back as Hugh leans forward isn’t helping. Oh god!

Before long Paul is hard and squirming against the mattress for friction. Right then Hugh’s hands still and he leans forward. His lips are almost touching the shell of Paul’s ear as he says, “Stop that. I can’t work like that. Lie still, please.” Oh god!

Paul has no idea what exactly it is, but something about this is so hot. Hugh didn’t even say it in a husky voice. He just sounded calm and serious. Still, Paul obeys and stops his squirming.

“Good.” That sends a pleasant shiver down Paul’s back as if Hugh’s were a velvet cloth pulled all the way from his neck down to his ass. Wow! Hugh continues the massage, slowly going deeper.

This time he doesn’t ignore Paul’s ass. Hugh just scoots lower so that he’s straddling Paul’s thighs. Then he starts kneading Paul’s buttocks. It’s like the tips of his fingers are sending little electric jolts right to Paul’s groin. Lying still and not grinding his hips becomes a greater challenge by the second.

Paul sighs into the pillow, desperately trying to stay quiet. But Hugh massaging his buttocks moves his whole pelvis against the mattress, generating delicious friction. So he can’t hold back a groan, but shuts his mouth immediately after.

Hugh stops for a moment and leans forward to Paul’s ear again. “That’s fine, babe. You can be as loud as you want. Just stay still for me, ok?” Paul nods weakly, too distracted by the hot flesh pressing against his ass. Oh god!

Hugh’s hands are back on Paul’s buttocks and upper thighs. His lips are peppering butterfly kisses down the line of his spine. That makes him shiver. But he isn’t reprimanded for that. Good, because he has no idea if he could stop that willingly. Right now it feels like he’s not in control of his own body at all, but Hugh is. And strangely that’s not scaring him one bit. If anyone can be trusted to take care of him, it’s Hugh.

Lying still becomes a bit easier when Hugh massages his legs. But it isn’t any less torturous. Paul’s cock is still rock-hard, and he just needs Hugh to touch it already. He doesn’t say anything though because the waiting and being out of control is part of what has him so worked up.

Finally Hugh taps Paul’s foot as if to check if he’s still awake. But this time sleep couldn’t be further from his mind. He’s aching in a delicious way. “Turn around.” Paul does as he’s told, sighing in relief. Fucking finally! “Is it ok if I remove your briefs?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” Paul’s voice is shaking. He can’t remember ever sounding this needy. Luckily he’s far beyond caring at this moment.

Hugh chuckles while coaxing Paul’s ass off the mattress removing the garment. Is he being extra careful not to create any unnecessary friction? Rude!

“Are you so impatient, babe?” Hugh’s sweet voice matches his devilish grin. Paul would be mad if he weren’t enjoying himself so much.

“You bet,” he presses out from between clenched teeth.

“That means I have to shut you up by kissing you again, right?” Hugh straddles him again and leans forward to capture Paul’s lips with his. Feeling the heat of Hugh’s erection pressing against his own through only one thin layer of cotton makes Paul moan in surprise. Hugh pushes his tongue past Paul’s parted lips, and this feels more intense than any kiss Paul has ever experienced. His whole body seems to be involved. His skin is tingling wherever it touches Hugh’s.

When Hugh finally pulls away, Paul can’t help but follow his mouth until his neck aches from the weird angle. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow in obvious frustration.

“Can you go on and stay still for me, babe?” Hugh’s voice has dropped deeper than Paul has ever heard it. The rumble is enough to give him goose bumps. 

“Yes!” He wants to be good for Hugh, let go, not worry about anything for once. He can do this. He can stay still.

“Good. Just tell me if I’m doing anything you don’t want, okay?” Paul nods, but Hugh isn’t content with that. “Babe, can I hear that from you?”

Paul has to pull himself together to get so many words out, but he can do it for Hugh. “Yes, I’ll tell you if you’re doing anything I don’t want.”

“Good.”

And that’s all it takes. Hugh kisses him again, first flush on the mouth, then on one corner of his mouth, then on the side of his chin. He kisses his way down Paul’s throat, licking and nipping sensitive skin. It feels amazing and Paul has to work hard to stop himself from arching into the sensation. Whenever he fails and moves, Hugh just stops for a moment. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. As soon as Paul is lying still again, Hugh continues his onslaught on his delicate skin.

Hugh takes some time lapping at one nipple, which makes Paul moan loudly and his erection twitch a little. It seems like Hugh could do this all night. By the time he’s done with the other nipple, Paul is just short of begging Hugh to finally touch his cock. No such mercy though.

Hugh kisses a line down Paul’s belly. Now it’s impossible to lie still because he’s ticklish there. When Hugh notices the reason for Paul’s squirming, he relents immediately though. Instead he presses a chaste kiss just above the patch of reddish-blond pubic hair that grows around Paul’s cock. That’s the spot where he’s been leaking precum for a while now. Paul wonders what it would be like to taste himself on Hugh’s tongue. He’s also sure that now his pulsing erection will finally get some attention. But no, Hugh scoots down lower on the bed and starts nibbling at the inside of Paul’s thighs. That elicits a loud groan of frustration, and Paul is sure he can feel a grin against the sensitive skin of his thigh.

Hugh covers one inner thigh with kisses, from just above the knee up to just below Paul’s balls. Then he starts the same procedure on the other leg. Hugh has to stop multiple times because Paul can’t help but move his hips. Not that there’s anything providing him with any friction, but staying still is so difficult. He’s desperate.

When Hugh’s done with Paul’s legs he finally – finally – positions his face just above the tip of Paul’s cock. It’s an angry red by now. Paul can feel it pulsing in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Hugh only blows on the tip, and that’s enough to make it twitch. Then he swipes his tongue up the underside from root to tip, swirling his tongue around the head. Oh god!

It takes all of Paul’s self-restraint not to buck his hips. He can do this. He can be good. He can stay still. But a long drawn-out moan escapes his mouth. Hugh looks up at him, his eyes dark with desire. A mischievous smile plays around his lips. “Do you want me to stop?”

Paul knows he’s being played, but his mouth is three steps ahead of his mind. “God, no! Please, don’t stop! Please don’t!” He has no time to be embarrassed by his begging though.

Hugh grins up at him, keeps his eyes locked with Paul’s and sinks down onto Paul’s cock, taking all of it into his mouth. He hollows his cheeks and the suction alone is almost enough to push Paul over the edge.

When Hugh bobs his head up and down and uses his tongue to caress the shaft and the sensitive tip, it becomes impossible for Paul not to move. Hugh helps him though. He holds Paul’s hips down with one hand, using the other to stroke his balls.

Paul starts seeing stars as his whole body tenses up. The hand that was on his hip before is now holding on to his hand, anchoring him. He holds on tight as wave after wave of his orgasm washes over his body.

Everything goes white for a moment. Paul’s orgasm is more intense than any other he can remember. He’s panting hard when his thoughts start taking shape again. He’s still holding Hugh’s hand in a vicelike grip. Nevertheless, Hugh managed to grab a tissue with which he’s wiping his mouth right now. 

Suddenly Paul realises that now he can move, he can touch. Nice! He lets go of Hugh’s hand and his fingers wander down a built chest. Before long they find the waistband of Hugh’s briefs. He traces it, but only says, “Unfair!” The part of his brain in charge of building complex sentences is still fried, it seems.

“Then take it off.” Hugh sounds eager now.

In his post-orgasmic haze Paul probably murmurs “It’s beautiful” as Hugh’s cock springs freed from the fabric. 

Hugh lies next to him then so that their bodies are touching completely on one side. He’s hot and that feels great against Paul’s skin so he turns into it. As he feels Hugh’s erection flush against his stomach he can feel his own flaccid cock twitch in response.

“May I?” Paul asks as his hand is already on its way to that gorgeous cock. Hugh nods, never taking his eyes off Paul’s. He gasps when Paul’s fingers close around him. He presses his face into Paul’s shoulder, his breath hot against Paul’s collarbone as he moans. Paul is amazed by the sounds he can draw from Hugh as his hand moves over his shaft, his thumb sliding over the wet tip. Hugh must have been pretty worked up too. It doesn’t take long until he shudders and comes onto both their stomachs and Paul’s hand. Then he goes boneless and rolls onto his back, panting.

Paul remains plastered to Hugh’s side until he can feel the cum dry on his skin. He gets up and goes to the bathroom for a wet cloth. As soon as he’s done cleaning them up, he lies back down next to Hugh and pulls the covers over them.

Hugh is still on his back so Paul lies partly on top of him. Normally he’s not one for cuddling, but right now he’s craving every point of contact between their bodies. Because Hugh’s eyes are still closed, Paul just lies there and draws patterns on his chest. He can’t stop smiling, and his cheeks are already starting to ache from it. When Hugh finally opens his eyes there’s a dopey grin on his face as well.. And his eyes are so soft, Paul wants to look at them forever.

He murmurs, “That was amazing.” And he means it. He’s never felt like this before. It’s like no matter how close he is to Hugh, he needs to get closer still. He wants to slip beneath his skin and hold his heart. That’s nonsense of course, but Paul has no better words to express what he’s feeling.

“Yes, it was.” Hugh sounds sleepy. He presses soft kisses to Paul’s lips and gently caresses his back. They stay close like that, holding each other until they finally fall asleep.


	11. Gravity or the Absence Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cuddling and weird conversations over lunch, Straal is definitely the mom friend, meanwhile Paul has difficulties remaining on the ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took me so long. Real life had me busy and uninspired. Then the new episode kicked me in the ass and made me write again. (It also made me end this chapter a lot more positive than I planned. Hugh and Paul must be happy right now. I can't write anything else at the moment...)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Many thanks to the people who commented and helped to motivate me to write at all. <3
> 
> cw: sex, handjobs

Paul slowly slips from pleasant dreams into being awake. His eyes are still closed. He’s safe in a cocoon of soft warmth. It takes his sleep-addled brain some time to identify that most of this protective shell is Hugh’s body pressed against his back. One arm is draped over his side, a hand resting on his chest, just above his heart – as if Hugh is reaching for it even in his sleep.

Paul can feel Hugh’s chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. He can also feel the hot flesh of Hugh’s erection pressing against his ass. Oh, right. They fell asleep naked last night. Neat! 

Paul is smiling with his eyes still closed. This might just be the happiest moment he’s ever experienced. His body is relaxed and his mind isn’t racing for once. It’s completely focussed on the man holding him and how his slow breathing tickling the back of Paul’s neck is the most delicious feeling. He’s glad to be secure in Hugh’s arms. Without this hold grounding him he’d surely be floating a foot above the bed.

Paul remains like this, contemplating how unbelievably good he’s feeling, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over Hugh’s hand until the man behind him begins to stir. There is a deep sigh. Then the arm around him tightens its grip, pulling Paul impossibly closer. Full lips find the sensitive skin of Paul’s neck in a sloppy kiss. He can feel Hugh’s heartbeat matching his own quickening pulse. Hugh’s interlacing their fingers again, pressing both their hands against Paul’s chest. It feels like he’s trying to pull Paull into himself, and Paul remembers thinking about the same thing last night. That innocently romantic thought slips away as soon as Hugh rolls his hips. His full hot cock rubs against Paul’s ass. All coherent thought is lost for a moment as he groans and pushes back on instinct.

When thoughts return to him, Paul says, “Good morning.” His voice sounds raspy and deep. He likes to think that’s the reason for Hugh gasping close to his ear.

The only answer he gets is a hum. Paul loves how the low rumble ripples through Hugh’s entire body and resonates within him as well. They’re in sync. That gives Paul an odd sense of peace, as if aligning his frequency with that of just one entity brings him closer to synchronising with the entire universe. Why does his mind produce weird poetry whenever he’s close to Hugh?

Paul’s distracted from that line of thought when Hugh rolls his hips again. “Hm. Feels nice.” Hugh’s voice makes both their bodies vibrate again. His hand lets go of Paul’s in order to stroke his chest. It settles on one of Paul’s nipples. Paul sighs, delighted. Then he wiggles his butt, content when it elicits more groans from Hugh. It’s not fair when he’s the only one who’s distracted.

 

As Hugh’s hands start roaming his body, Paul pulls himself together. His voice is more steady than he expects when he says, “Oh no!” Hugh freezes immediately.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

Paul uses the small pause to turn around in Hugh’s embrace. There’s shock on Hugh’s face and that is heart breaking. Sometimes he should think before he speaks. Paul presses a swift kiss on Hugh’s lips and then remains close so that their foreheads are touching. He wraps an arm around Hugh’s back and pulls him close, expressing with his body what he lacks the words to say at the moment. Hugh seems to get the message and relaxes slightly.

“Quite the opposite.” Paul sighs when his own erection rubs against Hugh’s. He can’t speak for a moment because he needs to relish that delicious feeling. Instead, Paul runs one hand over Hugh’s chest, tangling his fingers in the hair there. His other hand maps the skin of Hugh’s broad back in what he hopes are soothing strokes. “It’s just my turn to touch you now.”

Hugh sighs and relaxes even more under Paul’s touch. “So what I did last night was ok?”

Paul has to stifle an incredulous laugh. “Um, you were there, right?” He tries to sound sarcastic which is undermined by the shiver running through his body when Hugh rolls his hips again. “What you did last night wasn’t ok. It was amazing.” One of Paul’s hands finds defined abs to caress while the other gropes Hugh’s ass, holding him still for the moment so that Paul can make his point. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about touching you again ever since our night at the club.”

“Understandable.” Ah, that confident smile looks a lot more like Hugh.

Hugh chuckles, a deep and breathy sound, as Paul begins exploring his body with his hands and his mouth. Before long they’re both grinding their hips together with more and more urgency, filling the room with soft moans and gasps. Finally Paul takes hold of both their cocks, bringing them off slowly while Hugh is panting against the side of his neck. It feels exhilarating to know how much his touch can affect the other man.

After they’ve both come, they catch their breaths in silence. Paul recovers first. He finds tissues on the nightstand to clean his hands perfunctorily. Then he goes back to letting them roam the planes of Hugh’s skin. Now his movements are slow and lazy, not fuelled by any urgency. Hugh’s lips find his and their kisses are just as lazy and relaxed. They have all the time in the world to explore each other, to hold on, to touch.

By the time they finally get out of bed it’s almost 1200 hours ship’s time. Paul gets ready first. While Hugh is taking a sonic shower, Paul takes care of the bedclothes and then sends a message to Straal’s PADD, asking if they could meet up for lunch. He doesn’t know when or how exactly his attitude has changed, but suddenly Paul can’t wait for his friends to finally meet Hugh. He needs to share this giddy feeling with someone. It’s like he wants to show off Hugh and the fact that a man like that wants him. Maybe when the others see them together, it’ll all feel less surreal.

Straal answers within minutes. “Let’s meet at 1300 hours in the mess hall. I’m bringing Viola and Nanami.” Good. Paul wants them to be there. He needs them to see how wonderful Hugh is so that they don’t have to worry anymore. 

“I’ve organised a lunch date for us.” Paul informs Hugh light-heartedly as he comes out of the bathroom. Hugh’s only wearing a tight pair of briefs, and for a moment Paul wonders if lunch is such a good idea. Just spending the rest of the day in bed, worshipping Hugh’s body, seems like an enticing alternative. Luckily, Hugh pulls on some clothes before Paul has the chance to act upon his cravings. As soon as he’s clad in black sweatpants and a snugly fitting white shirt, Paul might be able to make informed decisions again, probably.

“So I’m finally meeting your friends?” Hugh doesn’t look nervous. But then again, why would he? He seems to be good with people. And maybe Paul’s warning didn’t do his friends justice.

Hugh holds out his hand for Paul and gives him that sparkly smile. That’s enough to make Paul blush, but he kind of enjoys the soft tingling in his cheeks. It goes well with the goofy smile that seems to be glued to his face since last night and the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He must look like he’s high or something as they make their way through the corridors to the mess hall. But surprisingly, Paul doesn’t care. For once he doesn’t feel stupid and scrutinized by those people walking past them. Instead, he notices that some of them are smiling at Hugh and him, silently sharing their happiness. And again, Paul feels like he might float away if it weren’t for Hugh’s hand holding on to his, keeping him by the doctor’s side.

When they enter the mess hall, Paul immediately spots Straal and Nanami. Both of them are waving. They look comical in their enthusiasm, which they seem to notice and thus curb their movements slowly. Paul has to chuckle, and a wave of fondness for those dorks sweeps over him. It only intensifies when he hears a matching chuckle coming from next to him. Paul’s grip on Hugh’s hand tightens on its own accord.

They have to get food before they can join Nanami and Straal. Hugh chooses a salad with chicken breast. Paul decides for pasta with broccoli. Out of the corner of his eye he notes Hugh’s approval, probably because he chose food that contains vegetables. He has a vague feeling that it should bother him – the fact that Hugh’s judging his nutritional intake. But instead, he views it as endearing that Hugh wants to take care of him. He said that it’s hard to stop doctoring even when he’s off duty. 

As they arrive at the table and sit down, Paul asks, “Where is Viola? You said you’d bring her too.” He gives Straal a reproachful look that he doesn’t quite mean.

“It’s not my fault.” Straal shrugs. “She wasn’t in her room and hasn’t answered my messages. Maybe we should worry.”

“Nah. She made some friends in the rec room last night.” Nanami says it with a smirk, suggesting that their co-worker might have been up for more than just friendship.

Paul is in awe about Viola’s ability to fit in almost anywhere almost instantly. At times he’s envied her for it, but right now he’s happy for her. He only briefly wonders what Hugh is making of this conversation. Since the doctor looks relaxed, Paul is willing to let this play out. Of course he’s used to gossip.

Straal grins and asks, “Do you think she found somewhere to spend the night?” He wriggles his eyebrows. Paul snorts because it makes his friend look like a character in an old animated movie.

Nanami drinks her tea solemnly as if she’s not going to dignify that question with a response. Then however, she giggles and stage-whispers, “I might have seen her leave with…”

She’s rudely interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Paul flinches like his colleagues. He didn’t even notice that Viola has suddenly appeared behind Nanami and Straal. The former almost drops her teacup as Viola grabs their heads and softly bumps them together.

“Where I spend my nights – and with whom – is none of your fucking business, you little gossips!”

Without missing a beat Viola makes her way over to Hugh, her curly brown hair bouncing with every energetic step. She holds out her hand and smiles as if she’s in a toothpaste-commercial. It’s not so different from Hugh’s smile, but on her Paul finds it endearingly ridiculous.

“May I introduce myself?” Hugh has taken her hand and looks amused by her mock formality. “Viola Beauchamp, particle physicist, consulting with Starfleet. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Doctor Hugh Culber, Medical officer with Starfleet. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

As Viola sits down next to Hugh, Nanami speaks up, “Ah, I didn’t even introduce myself. How impolite!” She hangs her head in shame for all of two seconds, then she waves at Hugh from across the table. “I’m Ojima Nanami. I’m also a particle physicist, but I’ve been known to dabble in engineering and knitting as well.” Hugh waves back, seemingly delighted by the slightly weird gesture.

“Speaking of impolite, why didn’t you introduce us to Hugh yesterday, Paul?” Viola pokes his cheeks with one accusing finger. “We didn’t see you all day.”

Paul tries to laugh it off, but Nanami chimes in, “No really, Paul, we were worried about you.” Unlike Viola she can make it sound sincere enough to cause a tiny pang of guilt to hit him. It is replaced by concern when both women look at Hugh as if he has to answer for something.

Paul wants to appease them, but Hugh is faster. “He spent all day teaching me math.” He keeps a totally straight face saying it.

Straal and Nanami just gape at him while Viola laughs loud enough so make some heads turn to their table.

“You’re even more of a nerd than I thought!” Viola can’t stop laughing for a while, but she softly rubs Paul’s arm at the same time as if to placate him. “You need some serious dating advice.”

“No, it was exactly right, actually.” Hugh sounds serious but not unkind. “Paul knew I’m interested in medical engineering and that I’ve been expanding my skillset in that direction. So he brought me some material to study and tried to teach me the basics of engineering. That was very thoughtful of him and actually pretty romantic.” It feels like Paul’s heart is trying to escape his ribcage at those words. He must be blushing too. Hugh’s eyes are shining with affection and admiration as he talks about something as mundane as learning with Paul. “He’s also quite a good teacher. I’m pretty sure I understood everything.” 

Paul feels like he must be floating a few centimetres above his seat.

“That’s because you’re brilliant. It has nothing to do with me.” Paul says it without even thinking. “You should see how fast he’s learning. I think I’ve never had so much fun explaining something to someone.” Hugh looks at him with breathless wonder and it might be the most beautiful thing Paul has ever witnessed – and he’s seen luminescent spores fly off into a starry night. Wow. He wants to pull Hugh into a kiss, but he isn’t quite sure if that’s appropriate in front of all those people.

His friends look from one of them to the other. They’re gaping at first, but then each of them begins to grin. Paul can see the exact same wide grin spreading on three faces. It’s almost uncanny. Viola is the first to speak. “This…” She vaguely gestures between Hugh and Paul. “This is beautiful. Amazing. You have my blessing. When’s the wedding?”

Straals bumps his fist into her arm while Nanami is giggling behind her hands. His best friend looks over at him, worried, but Paul isn’t quite sure why. It feels like he’s floating so far above the ground that Viola’s words could barely touch him if they were hurtful. But they aren’t hurtful. Paul can see that through his blissful haze. She likes Hugh. She gets it. Whatever this thing between Hugh and him is, it’s tangible enough for others to see, to feel, to support. It’s real.

Nanami sighs from behind her hands. It sounds relieved. Hugh gives her a questioning look, and Paul is just barely concerned what she might say.

“I’m just grateful. It looks like I won’t have to hurt you. It would be a shame. You’re really handsome.”

“Et tu, Brute?” Straal looks like he wants to hit his head on the table repeatedly. “Nanami! We talked about this. No gratuitous threatening!”

Paul reaches for Hugh’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Hugh doesn’t look worried though. Instead, he seems amused by Straal’s reaction.

“You’re right, Nanami. He’s hot. It would be a shame to break that face or that body.” Straal glowers at Viola, looking like he’s about to flip the table. 

Then he turns to Hugh and says, “I’m so sorry. They’re just really excited to meet you. Normally they’re not like this.” He’s beginning to sound desperate. Hugh still looks unperturbed.

“He’s so hot, right? I mean, look at this.” Paul casually bends Hugh’s arm to show off his bicep. Within the same movement he guides Hugh’s hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle. The whole time he looks up at Hugh from beneath his lashes, hoping that his pride and admiration show in his eyes. If the doctor’s wide smile is anything to go by, Paul must be very successful.

Meanwhile at the other end of the table Straal pushes his empty plate away and lets his face sink to the table top in defeat.

That cracks Paul up and the others laugh along with him. The entire mess hall must be watching them by now, but Paul couldn’t care less. Hugh’s hand is barely keeping him anchored. He can’t remember ever feeling this light, this unburdened, this careless.

After a few minutes of breathless laughter they all slowly calm down. “Are you finally done embarrassing me?” Straal has sat up again, and he doesn’t really sound angry, just a little tired. Then he shrugs and smiles, re-joining the conversation such as it is. “Nanami, could you even beat him up if you wanted to? Look at those muscles!”

Hugh answers before Nanami can, “Those are just for show. I can lift weights and carry boxes and maybe an ensign or two.” He looks at Paul who isn’t sure why those words make him blush. “But I only have the bare minimum of combat training. I’m a doctor, not a fighter after all.”

Nanami instantly begins asking Hugh about his workout routine and nutrition. Paul continues eating and doesn’t really listen to them. He just enjoys the relaxed atmosphere and the fact that his friends – for better or worse – have so easily accepted Hugh. It’s also beautiful to see the doctor in his element – socialising, being the centre of attention with an ease that looks foreign to Paul. How is it that everything Hugh does, seems to make feelings of pride and awe bloom in Paul’s chest? He lets those emotions fill him up. Somehow they never seem to run out of space.

By the time Paul has finished his pasta he starts listening again. Nanami is talking about the different fighting styles she’s proficient in. He doesn’t even think before he interjects, “Nanami is so fast and strong. I saw holo recordings of her fighting in a kickboxing tournament. She’s so amazing. I’ve seen her destroy guys who were at least twice her size.” His co-workers look baffled. Up to now Paul hasn’t told Nanami that he looked up her fights and watched some of them. She quickly hides a blush behind her teacup. Still, Paul has seen it, and it makes him smile. From the corner of his eye he sees that Hugh is smiling as well.

Suddenly there’s a hand on Paul’s shoulder and he almost jumps out of is skin. On impulse he reaches over to grab Hugh’s hand again. 

Grounded like that Paul dares to turn around slowly. He isn’t even surprised to see Mar’s pale impassive face. Who else would just approach him like that? What does surprise him is the fact that the corners of their mouth are slightly turned up. The resulting smile looks only mildly menacing. Paul holds on tightly to Hugh’s hand as he says, “Hi Mar.” And his voice sounds almost steady.

Mar just nods at him and then at Hugh, whose smile has become a little tight. Mar’s eyes are back on Paul as they say, “You look cute together.” It sounds as matter of fact as if they were reading out some test results. Still, Paul feels like the weight of a whole moon has dislodged from his soul, leaving him weightless in space.

Paul has no time to contemplate that feeling though. He’s too busy gaping at Mar as they step behind Viola and press a kiss on the top of her head. Paul’s mouth is falling open as Viola giggles and then blushes a rosy pink. And he’s not the only one at the table. He can see his own puzzled look mirrored in Straal’s and Hugh’s faces. Only Nanami smiles knowingly.

They snap out of it when Viola pushes Straal over and then moves her own chair closer to Paul’s. Mar gets a chair and sits down between Viola and Straal. Just like Viola Mar hasn’t brought any food. They’re just there for the conversation it seems.

“And that solves the mystery of the whereabouts of one Viola Beauchamp last night.” Viola looks like she might throw food or cutlery at Nanami, who seems completely unfazed by that as well as the severe look Mar is giving her. Must be nice to know you can defend yourself against menacing bone-breaking Betazoids.

“She said that’s none of our business.” Paul says, trying to return Mar’s favour from the previous day. He sounds serious, and Nanami seems willing to acquiesce.

Still, Viola hurries to find a new subject that’s distinctly different from whatever happened between her and Mar. “Hugh, has Paul told you anything about our research?” 

“Oh yeah. He said you’re researching how the spores of mushrooms interact with space-time on a quantum level. He said I can imagine this mycelial network like the veins and muscles holding our galaxy together.”

“You remember what I said?” Paul didn’t mean for it to sound so incredulous.

“Um, yeah?” But Hugh seems to get it. Somehow he knows that this isn’t Paul thinking that he’s too stupid or something. This is Paul thinking that nobody would be interested enough in this to actually listen to him. “You explained it really well. And to be honest you found very poetic words for it. Why would I not remember that?”

“That’s amazing.” Paul couldn’t hide his awe even if he wanted to.

“Of course he gets it, Stamets. He let you talk Engineering at him for a day! It’s not surprising.” Straal looks like he wants to flick Paul’s forehead to make him snap out of it. Instead, he looks over to Hugh. “But do we really need to talk about work right now?”

Before he can ask anything else though, Nanami says, “Yeah, right. New topic! Has Paul told you about his family?”

“Yes, a bit. Paul told me that he’s an only child and that he’s not really close to his parents or any of his family members really. There’s just that one uncle he likes.” 

Nanami and Viola look at each other, their eyebrows almost hiking up to their hairlines. 

Hugh’s obviously confused and looks at Paul. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Paul grabs Hugh’s hand again to signal him that it’s fine. Maybe he shouldn’t let go of it anymore. He softly caresses Hugh’s thumb with his own.

“It’s just that that’s more than Stamets has ever told us about his family,” Straal clarifies.

“You never asked about them.”

“You never brought them up.”

“I also didn’t bring up the Eugenics Wars. Do you want to hear my opinion on those too?” Paul is proud that he doesn’t sound bitter.

Viola seems uneasy with his comment though. “What about your family, Hugh?” 

“My dad died when I was still a kid. So my mom and my grandma raised me. I also have two older sisters, Isabel and Daya. We’re pretty close.”

“Aaaawww.” Viola and Nanami look at each other with shining eyes.

“What?” 

“Oh, it’s just that sisters are awesome. Nanami and I have discussed this at length. Sisters are a good influence.”

“I know we’re totally generalising here, but our combined experience with people shows that people with sisters are just cooler.”

“Especially men. I don’t know even one man with a sister who is an asshole. And believe me, I do know quite a few assholes.”

“Yeah, sisters are especially good for men. But it’s my firm believe that people of any gender can profit from growing up with sisters.”

Both women are grinning, not letting on how serious they are about this.

Hugh joins them with a knowing smile. “I tend to agree.”

“Why does that only make me more grateful that I only have a younger brother?” Straal sighs and looks at Paul for support. “What’s your opinion, only child?”

Paul smiles as well. Somehow the situation is hilarious to him. His hand is still secure in Hugh’s. “I don’t know if growing up with a sister or two would have improved my childhood. It certainly couldn’t have made it worse.” It’s a matter of fact statement so Paul’s voice remains steady. “Right now I feel like I have two sisters. Viola and Nanami are so protective of me.” His smile grows even wider. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Aaawww, Paul! That’s so sweet!” That’s all the warning he gets before Viola leans over and hugs him from the side. At the same time he can feel Nanami’s small hand patting his hair. Paul feels a bit weird but not uncomfortable. Normally he’s not the cuddling type. Now however, he’s enjoying the affection. Paul meant what he said about them. The butterflies in his stomach seem to multiply as he shares his happiness. His free hand moves automatically to return Viola’s embrace.

Paul is only vaguely aware of Mar’s raised eyebrow or Straal’s confused expression. He only really notices them when his best friend addresses Hugh. “You broke Stamets! What did you do to him? This is so weird. You broke Stamets!”

Hugh looks over to him, tension suddenly pulling at his features. Something in Paul’s face must put him at ease though because he chuckles along with him and the women. Good. Hugh’s done nothing wrong.

“Weren’t you the one who said we’re like a family, Straal? Are you jealous because I didn’t say that you’re like a brother to me?” Paul manages to keep a straight face for about three seconds. Then he cracks up at the appalled look on his best friend’s face.

“Ugh! Why would you even say such a thing?” Straal sounds more indignant than grossed out though.

Paul knows there’s nothing malicious about the sentiment. This is just not how they usually express their affection. “Don’t worry, Straal. If you were my brother, I’d be sure you’re adopted.” 

“Don’t worry, Straal. You’ll always be our mother hen.” Nanami has stopped patting Paul’s head. Instead, she’s soothingly stroking Straal’s shoulder now.

They keep joking around like this for some time, their meals long since finished or forgotten. There might be some serious conversation besides the banter, but Paul doesn’t really listen. He rather concentrates on the giddiness he’s feeling, the butterflies in his stomach pulling him upwards, Hugh’s hand fitting perfectly into his. Sometimes he’s distracted by the way Mar’s and Viola’s shoulders brush against each other because they’re sitting so close. It looks more casual than his hand clinging to Hugh’s, but it’s cute. Paul feels a wavve of protectiveness towards Viola. The relaxed fondness on Mar’s face as they look at her is enough to sooth that though.

The mess hall is almost empty by the time they finally get up from the table. Straal requests a moment alone with Paul. Meanwhile Hugh and Mar volunteer to show Nanami and Viola the Republic’s training facilities. Hugh and Paul agree to meet up later in Paul’s quarters again. 

Before the two groups part, Paul pulls Hugh in close for a kiss. Since they’re in the middle of a corridor Hugh probably expects nothing more than a small peck on the lips. He gasps in surprise as Paul leans in to deepen the kiss, tenderly dipping his tongue past Hugh’s lush lips. Paul vaguely hears his friends cheering, but that remains at the back of his awareness. Right now it seems like nothing is real apart from Hugh’s lips on his, and they’re weightless and floating together.

That feeling lasts until long after the kiss. When Straal accompanies him to his room, Paul could still swear that the ship’s gravity is malfunctioning. His feet never quite touch the ground.

Finally in the privacy of his room Paul can barely contain himself. “They like him!” He feels like doing a victory dance again.

“Of course they like him.” Straal sounds slightly impatient. “He’s disturbingly handsome, freakishly nice and most importantly he turns you into this.” He gestures at Paul with both hands as if that would explain anything.

“Into what?”

“I don’t know. This gooey cheerful version of you I’ve never seen before. Not that I’m complaining. It just takes some getting used to. Is that happy you? High you? You when you’re in love?”

Paul expects a stab of panic at the word love, but it never comes. Suddenly he understands how weird he must seem to his best friend. Right now he seems weird to himself as well. “That might just be it,” he admits, surprised by the confidence in his voice.

Straal’s expression is halfway between incredulous gaping and surprised smiling. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “What did he do to you, Stamets?” Paul blushes furiously at that question. His face feels like it’s burning, but at the same time he can’t stop smiling. “You had sex!” Straal sounds like he was aiming for accusatory but ended up at cheerful instead. Paul just nods. “That good, huh?” 

First Paul wants to nod again, but then he thinks better of it. “Yes. But that’s not it. Not all of it at least. It’s everything.” Straal raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “No, really! I’m feeling so much better about everything now. It’s like before I didn’t even realise where we were going and what we’ll do there. We’ll live our dream! But I’m only feeling it now.”

Straal still doesn’t seem to understand or he just wants to let Paul talk since he’s finally willing to do so.

“Up to now I’ve been so busy organising this shit and worrying about administrative bullshit and worrying if I could teach. All of that. There was no room for looking forward to it. All I felt was stress.”

“And how did Hugh change that?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea how he does it, but I feel better when I’m with him. He’s just there. He believes in me and somehow that makes it easier for me to believe in myself. It’s amazing. But I certainly don’t understand it.”

Straal smiles fondly, almost like he’s proud of Paul for something. “Sounds like love to me.” Paul nods, still surprised that that word doesn’t send him into a bout of panic. “Again, not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t you freaking out about that?”

Paul shrugs. “No idea. Maybe because I’m not so fucking afraid of getting it wrong anymore. Hugh likes me. He really likes me. It’s like I couldn’t mess this up even if I tried. He’s so kind and patient. He’s just right. Does that make sense?”

“I think so. Sounds perfect actually.”

“It feels good. Like, I still have no idea how the hell a relationship works. But if this is it, I want to try it. I feel like with Hugh it could work.”

Straal grins and pulls Paul into a tight embrace. “Ah. I’m so proud. You’re finally growing up.” When Paul wants to protest, Straal just ruffles his hair. Paul fights back, but only half-heartedly. He’s enjoying the moment too much. Having said all of this makes it more tangible. Sharing it with his best friend only boosts that effect. If Straal let go of him now, he might just float away.


	12. Gravity, Thou Heartless Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I keep trying to seperate the space boos, but they just keep cuddling. And the walnut reappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever because I was really unhappy with my writing. It's still not perfect, but I decided it's good enough. I hope I'll be better and faster in the future.

Gravity Thou Heartless Bitch

 

Straal has left, and Paul spends his time looking out the viewport. He loses himself in the image of stars streaking past. It’s calming, and it leaves his mind enough room to contemplate how good he’s feeling. It’s a bit weird because he’s never taken the time to just stand still and enjoy what’s going on in his mind. This kind of attention is usually reserved for his work – the things that count. Up to now there hasn’t been much else worthy of such contemplation.

Hugh finds him like that when he returns from his workout – deep in thought, still gazing at the stars. He stands behind Paul, pressing a short kiss on his cheek before he rests his head on Paul’s shoulder and wraps his arms around him. Paul grabs Hugh’s right hand on instinct and presses it against his chest. Just like this morning, as if Hugh could hold his heart.

“Are you okay, babe?” Paul likes the way Hugh’s voice reverberates through his own body. It feels like a purr.

“I’m fine.” He takes a moment to turn his head away from the stars and looks at their reflection in Hugh’s eyes instead. “I’m better than fine, actually.” His lips softly brush against Hugh’s. It’s nice being this calm. That is something Paul usually doesn’t experience outside of work either.

“So I didn’t break you after all?” Hugh sounds light-hearted, but they’re so close that Paul can feel his body tense up. So he took Straal’s words to heart.

“Do I look broken?” Paul gazes into Hugh’s eyes with a smirk. “I’m just different from what Straal is used to. He was confused. He wasn’t sure what it meant.”

“Different how?”

“Happy, I guess.” Hugh somehow manages to look relieved and concerned at the same time. “It’s not that I wasn’t happy before. I was just very stressed and tense, as you noticed, my dear doctor.” He runs his thumbs over Hugh’s fingers in a pattern that soothes him and makes it easier to put words to his feelings. “But I wasn’t unhappy. Now I’m far more relaxed. And happy. Just happy in a different way.” Paul’s surprised as Hugh tenses up even further.

“And what does it mean?” Ah, alright.

“It means I like you. I like being with you. You make me better. Straal said that means I’m in love.” Paul holds his breath just as he more feels than hears Hugh exhale a sigh and relax completely. That should probably be enough of an answer. But Paul desperately needs to hear the words.

“So am I.” Now Paul can expel the breath and with it the tension he’s been holding on to. “But I guess you knew that already.”

“I had no idea!” Paul isn’t even sure if he’s being sarcastic. He tries to cover for that. “Less talking, more kissing! This is supposed to be romantic.”

Hugh chuckles but obliges. Their lips meet in a tender kiss that slowly grows in intensity. When Paul’s eyes close, he feels like they aren’t in here but out there floating among the stars. Every aspect of it is amazing – Hugh’s smell and his taste, the feeling of his tongue gliding over Paul’s, the way their lips fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. 

Paul gasps at the loss when Hugh pulls back. Something tells him that any amount of time would have felt too short. Even forever might not have been long enough for that kiss. But it’s not that feeling which startles Paul out of his bliss. It’s Hugh clearing his throat and arranging his face to look calm even as his body is brimming with nervous tension.

“I need to tell you something.”

“I would never have guessed that.” Hugh smiles at the fond sarcasm. He still looks far from relaxed though.

“I’m coming to Earth.” Paul’s eyes grow big as his mind starts racing with the possibilities of that statement. Hugh clears his throat again before he continues. “Not now. Um, I’m not coming with you when you get off the ship, I mean. But I’ll leave the Republic and move to San Francisco in a bit over a month.”

“What?”

“I applied for a research project at Starfleet Medical and I got in. I’ll be researching ways to treat and hopefully heal Iverson’s Disease. I also planned to take some courses on Medical Engineering while I’m at it. And I thought that way I could be close to you.” Hugh’s eyes are so big and innocent and so full of expectation. It’s almost painful to look at them.

“Wow! That’s great.” Paul’s hit by a wave that starts off as excitement, but by the time he comes out at the other end, it feels like dread. “You’d give up your life on the Republic for that?” For me? That’s the part he doesn’t say.

“Not much of a life here. Sure, I have some friends, but as I pointed out the last time we met, the job itself isn’t fulfilling. My CMO thinks I have the potential to achieve a lot more. She even wrote me a letter of recommendation for the project. And I can make new friends on Earth.”

Oh yeah, Paul remembers that not everyone rolls up into a ball like a hedgehog as soon as they meet new people. Of course, Hugh with his easy-going demeanour and his effortless charm will no doubt make friends where ever he goes.

“And I’ll have you. Won’t that be great?”

“Yeah.” Paul can hear his own insecurity. He hopes that Hugh can’t because he doesn’t want to ruin this moment for him. Paul tries hard to let himself be swept up in Hugh’s joy. But the butterflies in his stomach are already turning to lead, his feet slowly making contact with the ground again. 

“It’s also great because I’ll be able to see my mom and Isabel more often. I do miss my family a lot, especially since abuelita died.”

“I tend to forget that not everyone joined Starfleet so they could put as many lightyears as possible between themselves and their parents.” Hugh laughs and Paul is glad that he’s apparently so excited and relieved to finally have said it. At least he doesn’t seem to notice that Paul isn’t so sure about this.

Hugh goes on talking about all the great things that’ll come out of this, and for a time that’s enough to lull Paul into considering that this could be good. They even make plans for what they could do together on Earth. And Paul feels the same smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as before. But still, deep down it feels hollow. He can’t shake the premonition at the back of his mind that this will blow up in his face.

For now it only remains a shadow, only slightly darkening his happiness. Paul pushes it aside and concentrates on using the time he has left with Hugh. When they’ve talked about Hugh’s new assignment enough, they return to their study of engineering. The afternoon turns out just as lovely and weirdly romantic as the last. Most of the time it doesn’t even take effort to keep the unnamed dread at bay. Hugh tends to have that calming effect on him. But it never goes away completely.

That might be the reason why Paul doesn’t feel much like cuddling when it’s late and they’re lying in bed together. Hugh’s body is pressed to his back again. The pressure of tight muscles and the growing hard-on rubbing against Paul’s ass send tingles of pleasure and lust through his body. But something inside his head doesn’t let him act upon those feelings. Instead, he’s overtly aware of how Hugh’s body is way too hot, how lying still for so long makes it hard to breathe, how Hugh’s arms around him start to feel like the bars of a cage.

He tries to distract himself from that uneasy feeling by saying the first thing that comes to his mind. “Hugh, when did you apply for that research project?” Of course, that’s been just beneath his thoughts the whole time. And now it’s out.

“Just after Alpha Centauri.” Hugh sounds sleepy already.

“Right after we met?”

“Yes, kind of.” He might want to say more on the issue, but the growing tension in Paul’s body seems to prompt Hugh to leave it at that. Paul has no idea if he can sense his growing discomfort.

He feels a pang of guilt as he carefully untangles his fingers from Hugh’s and pulls out of his embrace. Paul says apologetically, “I’m tired and it’s hot. I can’t sleep like this.” It’s too dark to make out the expression on Hugh’s face, but he lets go of Paul without any comment. Paul fumbles around in the darkness to press a kiss on the doctor’s lips. Then he scoots all the way over to the edge of the bed and tries to sleep.

But sleep doesn’t come for him. Instead, Hugh’s rhythmic breathing prompts his thoughts to race. He feels alone in the dark with only his own negativity as company. And suddenly Paul feels heavy with responsibility. It’s pushing him deep into the mattress. If he fucks this up – which he definitely will at some point or other – Hugh will have come to Earth, will have given up his life here. And for what? For the disappointment that Paul knows himself to be? Panic spreads through him so fast that he can barely breathe. He spends most of the night imagining in painstaking detail all the ways in which he might ruin Hugh’s life.

At some point Paul must have fallen asleep anyway. He wakes up to his alarm, clinging to a warm body, nuzzling Hugh’s neck, enjoying the calming already familiar smell. It’s a comfort to have someone to hold on to even though, technically, Hugh is the source of Paul’s dread. It’s not his fault, of course. And his solid back, expanding and receding with slow breaths, is enough to ground Paul in this moment, far away from his fears for the future.

Paul closes his eyes again and enjoys this blessed serenity for a few more minutes. Then his alarm sounds again, reminding him that the ship will reach Earth in about three hours.

Hugh told him that his shift today doesn’t start before the afternoon. So Paul plans on getting up quietly and letting him sleep a little longer. He’s not trying to flee. He’s just being considerate. At least that’s what he tells himself. Paul presses a coy kiss against Hugh’s neck and then rolls over.

“No,” Hugh mumbles from behind him, sounding anything but awake. “Don’t leave.”

Before Paul knows what’s happening, Hugh has turned around and is dragging him back onto the bed, pulling him close again. He’s still mumbling incoherently – now his words fall warm against Paul’s skin. It takes him a moment to understand that Hugh’s still half-asleep, clinging to him without knowing that he’s doing it. That innocent longing makes Paul’s heart beat faster. For a few seconds it’s even enough to make him forget about the fears lying heavy in his stomach. He wishes they could remain like this forever – in a moment where Hugh is adorable and Paul is elated and nothing can go wrong.

But just like reality, panic comes rushing back in the end. So Paul carefully extricates himself from Hugh’s arms and slips out of the bed again. On his way to the bathroom he looks back at the sleeping form, already mourning the perfection he was allowed to experience yesterday.

Paul showers longer than is strictly necessary. Sadly, a sonic shower doesn’t work half as well as a real one to clear his thoughts. Maybe he’s just hiding from the rest of the day. As soon as he steps off the Republic, all the bliss he felt here will start to fade. It will become unreal. All that’ll be left will be his fear of what is to come, the inevitability of failing, of hurting Hugh, of losing him.

When Paul finally comes back into the room, Hugh is awake. He still looks adorably sleepy though. That’s confusing. Paul can barely manage one feeling at a time and now he has to juggle panic and affection. It’s weird. But his body seems to handle it better than his mind. It moves over to Hugh as if pulled there by a string.

Paul presses a kiss on the top of Hugh’s head while the doctor is yawning. He must be more awake than he’s letting on though. Before Paul can get past the bed, Hugh reaches for his hand and deftly pulls him into his lap. He nuzzles Paul’s neck, fresh stubble deliciously grazing sensitive skin, and mumbles, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Because you don’t have to be up yet. I thought you could use some more sleep.” It’s not a lie.

“Says the man who looks like he hasn’t slept a wink last night.” Hugh smiles brightly. “I can sleep when you’re gone. Right now I want to enjoy every second we can have together. It’s bad enough that I couldn’t be there to greet you when you arrived on the ship. I’ll certainly be there to see you off.”

Something in Paul’s chest tightens when he remembers how much he wanted Hugh to be in the transporter room upon his arrival. How distraught he was at that moment and yet unable to admit to that feeling, even to himself. Suddenly it’s imperative that he wring every bit of comfort he can get out of this. Before he has to leave the ship, before he inescapably fucks up, before everything goes to shit.

So Paul leans back and just revels in Hugh’s scent and warmth. It’s just like enjoying a sudden ray of sunshine on an otherwise cold and cloudy day. They hold hands, and Hugh seems just as content inhaling Paul’s smell and simply sitting there. They don’t talk. They just feel. Paul isn’t sure how long they sit like that, but it’s enough time to recharge his batteries so he’ll get through this day and maybe what comes after.

Later there isn’t much time for intimacy. Straal picks Paul up for a quick breakfast, and then they have to supervise all their lab tech, materials and specimen being inventoried for transport again. But throughout the whole time Hugh is at his side, slightly behind him, watching quietly. His mere presence is soothing to Paul’s newly frayed nerves. And sometimes in between there are moments when Hugh takes his hand or steals a kiss while no one’s watching. Those instants are like tiny bubbles of serenity floating on the roaring stream of stress and fear and self-loathing. 

Protocol forbids Hugh to be in the transporter room when Paul and his team are beamed down to Earth. So they say their farewells in the hallway. This time there’s no one watching as they kiss, no crowd of friends and strangers to cheer them on. Just the two of them and this desperately intimate moment. Ending the kiss feels like giving up breathing. Paul can’t help but hold on to Hugh’s arms for a little longer, pressing their foreheads together.

“I’ll miss you.” Paul’s voice sounds raspy, as if he’s about to cry. And he might because this sounds so final.

“In just over a month you’ll have me back. And then I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.” Hugh sounds so sanguine, and Paul feels a little jealous. Maybe Hugh has enough confidence for both of them.

Paul leaves, broken-hearted, mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet. This is just a drill for what is certain to come in the future, just an exercise in saying goodbye. And already Paul doesn’t know how to handle it. He can’t stop thinking about that until they arrive on a transporter pad at Starfleet Headquarters.

It’s nice that they get to see their new lab, first thing upon their arrival. Nothing has to be unpacked yet, but they have to go through all of their things for the fourth time in total to check if every piece of equipment, every specimen, every single spore made its way safely to Earth. Paul is grateful because that’s the kind of work that can keep his mind occupied. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself, alone in his brand new apartment right now.

After they have finished this final inventory, Nanami suggests that they go to a bar to celebrate that they’re here at last. It’s the kind of invitation Paul would usually try to get out of until his friends pressure him into coming along, “but just for one drink.” Today he doesn’t protest. He simply accompanies the others, which earns him concerned looks from Straal and Nanami.

Paul doesn’t just stay for one drink either. He stays the bitter end, that is until Straal drags him out of the bar and into the direction of the apartment block where both of them have been assigned living spaces. Starfleet takes care of its employees in that way. They’re free to look for other accommodation of course. Not that that would have been an option for Paul. Ever since he left his parents’ house he’s lived in dorm rooms, crew quarters or company housing. He’s not one to care much about a place he normally just uses for sleeping and storing his non-work related stuff. He doesn’t even have a lot of that.

Paul hasn’t had any alcohol, unlike Straal, who’s clinging to his arm so that he can walk in a straight line. Straal’s inebriated state is probably a good thing. Maybe he’s so drunk that he’ll forget about the talk Paul is planning to have with him, has wanted to have with him ever since they stepped off the transporter pad. But it’s more likely that Straal will remember if only to spite him.

“That bad, is it?” Of course Straal knows what’s up, even in this state.

“What?”

“You’re missing Hugh already?”

“Yes. But that’s not … “ Paul has no idea how to even start explaining what’s going on inside his head.

“But that’s not the reason why you’re so obviously miserable?”

Paul bites back a cutting remark and nods instead; for once he’s grateful for how well Straal can read him.

“So what is it then? Because I’d totally understand that you’re down because you had to leave after that high you were on yesterday. But apart from that …”

“He’s coming to Earth.” Paul doesn’t look at Straal, not wanting to see his reaction.” In about a month he’ll move to San Francisco and start working on a research project for Starfleet Medical.”

“That’s great!” Straal sounds exhilarated until he looks over and sees the expression on Paul’s face. “Or isn’t it?”

Paul sighs. “It should be, I know. I should be happy for him, for us. And I want to be. Really. But I’m just afraid.”

Straal looks at him in disbelief. “Afraid of what?”

“That I’ll fuck it up!” Isn’t that obvious?

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Just yesterday you told me you’re not so scared of messing up anymore!” Straal’s drunken state only adds to his confusion.

“That was before he told me that he’s practically abandoning his whole life on the Republic to be with me.”

Straal’s brows are furrowed as he says, “Okay, that sounds a bit dramatic. Is that what he said?”

“Of course he didn’t say that, but he told me that he applied for that research program just after he left Alpha Centauri.” Paul tries not to sounds as hysterical as he feels, unsure if he’s succeeding.

Straal says, “All right, that is very much very early.” He looks worried now, which somehow isn’t what Paul expected or wants from him right now. “He didn’t even really know you back then. Hell, he barely knows you now!”

Paul nods unhappily, interpreting that as Straal agreeing that this can only turn out badly.

Straal shakes his head. “But you said he likes you the way you are. You were so confident yesterday. What happened to that confidence? I get that this is a huge step, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll do something wrong.”

“Oh, but I will.” There’s no doubt on Paul’s mind or in his voice. “And then he’ll regret that he gave up what he had for me, and then he’ll hate me!” Now his voice quivers like the mild evening breeze.

Straal looks over at him, his eyes wide open in an expression akin to surprise. It looks like he’s seeing and recognising Paul for the first time. “Paul! I get that you’re scared of making mistakes, but I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit. Up to now you’ve done pretty well with Hugh.”

“Yeah! Right!” Paul huffs.

“I mean it. You were there for him when he was exhausted, right? You mostly got along with his friends. You dealt with them almost gracefully. Hell, I think they might actually like you as much as we like Hugh. And despite all the stress at work you found the time to bring him something he might be interested in learning. That means you must have listened to what he wanted and remembered it. On top of that you used your sparse free time to teach him something, which he called sweet and romantic if I may remind you.” Paul doesn’t see the point. None of that is as positive or special as Straal makes it out to be. “For someone who supposedly doesn’t do love and has no idea how romance works, you seem to be doing fine.”

“And I managed to keep it up for almost two full days before I turned into an emotional mess.” 

“That’s longer than I expected to be honest.” Paul tries to give Straal a shove, which is stupid because he’s still practically hanging over Paul’s shoulder for support. His best friend only grins and uses the little kerfuffle to pull Paul closer. Being held like that provides some comfort at least.

“Did you tell Hugh that you’re scared? That it might be too soon? That you’re not sure what you’re doing?”

“Of course not!” What a question!

“Of course not? Why?”

Paul has to think about that for a few meters. Telling Hugh seemed so unimaginable that he didn’t have to come up with actual reasons why he couldn’t do it. But there must be good reasons, right?

“He’ll think I’m crazy.” Straal looks unconvinced. “He was so happy when he told me. We were so happy together yesterday. I don’t want to start breaking that. Does that make any sense?”

“A little, I guess. Maybe like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you tell him that you’re afraid of messing up what you have, he’ll just be waiting for it to happen and might find fault in everything you do. Like that?”

“Maybe.” That’s not quite the right reason, Paul knows. But it sounds plausible enough to his already panic-ridden mind.

“Okay.” Paul doesn’t know what exactly Straal is offering absolution for, but he’s so hungry for the confidence he felt only yesterday, that he holds on to it with both hands. It gives him a tiny bit of peace.

They’re almost home. So they walk the rest of the way in silence. Their conversation only resumes when Paul has to let go of Straal for a moment and leans him against a wall so he can get to the key card in his pocket. As the door slides open, he asks, “Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course?”

“Could you tell Nanami and Viola not to ask me how it’s going with Hugh? I think I couldn’t take that at the moment. And if I tell them, they’ll just bombard me with questions. I don’t think I could take that either.”

“They won’t like that.”

By now they’ve reached the door to Straal’s apartment, and Paul has to reach into his best friend’s pocket in order to find his key card. At least Straal doesn’t seem in a hurry to do it himself. When they are close like this, Paul gives him a pleading look.

“Of course, I’ll tell them,” Straal assures him. As soon as Paul has opened the door, Straal drags him into the flat and right through to the living room. They gracelessly fall down onto the non-descript black sofa provided by Starfleet. “But can you promise me something, Paul?”

“What?” He is wary.

“Promise me that you won’t clam up on Hugh. Don’t look at me like that; it’s what you always do! You hide behind your work, withdraw into your shell and ignore your feelings and what- or whoever might be causing them.” Straal looks so incredibly sincere that Paul can’t even pretend to be mad. “It’s fine if you do that to Viola or Nanami or to me because we see you every day. We know how you are. We can confront you about it and drag you out of your shell if we need to. But Hugh doesn’t have that option at the moment. I can only imagine how frustrating and hurtful it would be for him if you did that right now. So don’t shut him out like that. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve that.” The concern on Straal’s cuts deep.

Paul must look dismayed. Of course, he knows Straal is right, and hurting Hugh is the last thing he wants. But just the thought of talking to him at this moment makes the panic rise again. But this time at least Paul can’t claim ignorance. If he makes Hugh suffer now, it will be intentional, cruel.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” It’s the right thing to do.

Paul intends to keep that promise. He’s always been a man of his word. That doesn’t help him sleep later when he’s lying between the crisp new sheets on his Starfleet issue bed. In fact, over the next few weeks he forgets entirely what a full night of sleep in a bed feels like. 

Paul does what comes easy to him. He throws himself into work so he has no time to think or be afraid. And there is plenty of work to go around – so much of it actually that his co-workers barely find the time to worry about him. There is a lot to organise. Equipment has to be ordered and assembled in their new facilities, new workers have to be hired, an organisational structure has to be built up from scratch and integrated in the Academy’s existing infrastructure. Moreover there are a plethora of mushrooms that need tending so they can grow and produce spores for their research.

Establishing a whole new institute is far from the work Paul dreamt of doing before he came here. But it has to be done before he can fully apply himself to his mushrooms. And thankfully it’s the kind of work that keeps his mind away from the countless ways in which he might destroy what he has with Hugh.

Naturally, that kind of distraction only works until the messages start arriving.


	13. Coming Down to Earth with a Jolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul is not the only one suddenly affected by gravity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took me forever (especially since this and the next 2 chapters have existed in my notebook forever but I never managed to type them out).
> 
> I'm so grateful for the people who have commented on this fic so far. Your kind words and support are really helpful and have been a big motivation to continue this story in the last few weeks.
> 
> I hope to finish this monster of a fic this year (before the new season comes out). Wish me luck. Stay with me. I love you all.

The moment Paul steps into the transporter room Hugh feels the loss like someone carved an organ from his body. How has he fallen this hard this fast? It’s almost frightening. It would be, that is, if the last two days hadn’t been so unspeakably wonderful.

As it is, he feels like he’s floating through the Republic’s corridors rather than walking. Since his shift doesn’t start for the next couple of hours, Hugh goes to his room. Maybe Mar is there. He has forgotten to check if their work schedules match up this week. Paul was the only thing on his mind these past few days. Hugh wants Mar to be there. He needs someone to share his feelings with, not literally though – that would probably overwhelm Mar, what with all his giddiness at the moment. They might float away together, never to be seen again.

A goofy smile is plastered to Hugh’s face. He can see the people passing him in the corridors notice it, and most of them smile back . When he arrives, Hugh finds Mar lying on their bed, listening to something with headphones on their ears. Mar is already glaring at the door as if they knew he’d step through it any moment. Hugh’s feelings must have been loud enough to disturb them when he was still three decks away. Somehow he can’t bring himself to feel sorry for that. In fact, his smile intensifies at Mar’s nasty look.

They take off the headphones in slow pointed movements, glare never straying. “You have no idea how annoying you are.” Mar’s voice sounds flat, but Hugh knows they aren’t serious. That’s abundantly clear when they sit up on their bed and scoot over so he can sit next to them. Mar doesn’t actually disapprove. So Hugh lets his shoulder brush against Mar’s when he sits. Some grounding in the real world might be in order.

“Can you describe it?”

“What?” Mar raises an eyebrow.

“How annoying I am.” Hugh grins at them. “Maybe if I know what I’m doing, I can stop.” Both of them know that’s a lie.

Mar groans, but answers nonetheless, “It’s like pouring sugar into my mouth and being unable to stop. That’s how you feel at least.” Oh, Hugh can actually imagine that.

“Does it feel different for other people?” Usually they rarely discuss Mar’s abilities. But right now Hugh’s exaggerated emotions are fuelling his interest. It’s like admiring his reflection in the mirror, enjoying every single detail.

“Not really different. Not for everyone. Most people feel alike, I guess, they just differ in intensity.” Mar doesn’t seem to mind explaining this. Despite the harsh display only minutes earlier they must be in a good mood. “Your lover though, he’s something else entirely.” It’s impossible to tell if Mar means that as a good or a bad thing.

“Paul is special? How?” Hugh doesn’t even try to dial down his excitement. Mar can feel it anyway.

“That man’s feelings are like fireworks going off right in your face. I think I’ve never met anyone who feels so … loudly!” It doesn’t sound entirely annoyed, maybe even a bit impressed. Hugh smirks because the statement matches his own assessment of Paul. “I don’t know how he can stand it. Must be exhausting. Oh, and I never want to be near him when he’s miserable!”

Hugh’s smirk grows more intense. “He wasn’t miserable when you saw him yesterday though?” He knows the answer to that question, but he really wants to hear it – out loud, said by someone else.

“Oh no, he wasn’t miserable at lunch – quite the opposite. He was disgustingly giddy, flying high with his emotional fireworks.” Hugh must be grinning like a fool because Mar rolls their eyes, exasperated. “If sensing your feelings is like pouring sugar into my mouth, sensing his feelings yesterday was like being dunked headfirst in cotton candy, not knowing which way is up.”

Hugh can’t bring himself to make a serious face. A grin keeps pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t expect any sympathy from me”, he teases.

“Typical human, no empathy!”

Hugh bumps his shoulder into Mar’s, but they’re both laughing under their breaths.

“I’ll have you know that I have enough empathy to feel happy for you and Viola.” Mar stops laughing immediately. Hugh acts as if he doesn’t notice the soft blush on their cheeks. “How is it going with her?”

Mar’s smile becomes a tiny bit solemn. “She’s cool. We had a lot of fun.”

Hugh nudges Mar’s shoulder again instead of waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Did you hook up?”

“Multiple times.” Mar raises their chin, looking incredibly pleased with themself.

Hugh smirks. “I guess you don’t have to ask me the same question to know.”

“No, I didn’t have to ask. It was more than obvious.” Hugh fights the urge to hide his face in his hands. “I’ve never sensed you being so smug before. To be honest I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give you a high five or just slap you in the face.”

Now Hugh does hide behind his hands, but he’s laughing uncontrollably. “That bad?” he manages between bouts of laughter.

Mar just nods. Then they sit in silence for a bit, smiling, content, each following their own thoughts.

After a little while Hugh has to ask though. “And? Do you approve?"

Mar huffs. “What do you care what I think? Your mind is already made up. You’ve already decided that you’re going to Earth to be with him. So what would you do if I said I disapproved? Would you stay on the Republic? Would you give him up?” The way Mar says it sends a cold shiver down Hugh’s back. They sound so calm and collected. It makes something inside him bristle.

“I don’t have to do what you want to prove that your opinion matters to me.” Hugh doesn’t want to sound defensive.

“Fair enough.”

“And I didn’t decide I wanted to go to Earth just so I could be with Paul.” Now he definitely sounds defensive. He winces at the realisation but pushes on nevertheless. “Okay, that was part of the reason. I’d be lying if I denied that. But it was only a small part! I’ve been unhappy with my situation on the Republic for quite a while – as you might have sensed.” He gives Mar a pointed look. “But I’d grown complacent with my position and the path my career was or wasn’t going. I didn’t feel challenged and I was unhappy about it, but changing anything always bears the risk of failure.”

Mar doesn’t respond, but their expression is open, understanding. It probably doesn’t require the abilities of a Betazoid to guess how serious he is about this.

“I didn’t even think about it like that, but the feeling was there, and it was bothering me more and more. My shore leave gave me some time to reflect on that. But it was my first talk with Paul that made me realise I needed a change. It wasn’t even what he said! Though it was nice to have a beautiful brilliant stranger believing in my abilities I guess.”  Hugh could feel a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What kind of flipped a switch for me was how Paul believed in himself and just followed his dreams. He seemed so cocksure that he would change the world someday,that it was only a matter of people understanding his genius and believing in his ideas. It was inconceivable to him that he couldn’t do it. That kind of opened my eyes. Suddenly I didn’t want to settle for less than changing the world either.”

It’s the first time Hugh has put this into words. He’s often ruminated on what made him take the final step to change his life, what made him apply for the research project, what made him look into fields of medicine he hadn’t considered before. But only now does he realise how deeply Paul had impressed him, how much his stubborn confidence had inspired him to take that leap. Hugh is blushing at the sudden realisation, not quite sure why.

Mar looks about as stunned as he feels. Hugh usually doesn’t voice his emotions like that when he’s talking to them. Mar usually already knows after all. The soft frown on Mar’s face slowly turns into a smile. Good. But the weight isn’t off his chest yet.

“And?” Hugh notes that he sounds challenging rather than expectant.

“What?” Interesting. Hugh is sure he’s never seen Mar truly confused before.

“Do you approve?”

“Oh. You just made it sound like you really don’t need my approval.” Mar has obviously recovered their bearings, sporting that little disinterested smirk again. Hugh wants to glare, but he’s too anxious for their answer. “I do approve. I did approve before your little speech by the way. It just felt like you might have needed a little reality check and a reminder that this is serious business. My bad.”

The effect of their words is instantaneous. It feels like the weight of an entire planet has just lifted off Hugh’s shoulders. Mar must have felt it too. There is a sliver of fondness going over their face, which Hugh would have missed if he hadn’t been watching it so intently. It almost seems like Mar is touched by how important their opinion is to Hugh. He wants to say something about that but thinks better of it. Directing attention to Mar’s sentimentality is likely to make them deny it. So the two of them just sit in silence for a few minutes, looking in the same direction rather than at each other now.

Mar is the first to break the silence. “So what happened last night?”

“Last night?”

“Last night!”

“Nothing.” He was with Paul and like, literally, nothing happened last night. “What are you talking about?” Hugh doesn’t know if he should be worried. Maybe Mar is just pulling his leg. It’s hard to tell with them most of the time.

The baffled look on Mar’s face looks pretty genuine though. They don’t talk right away, apparently gathering their thoughts. “I probably shouldn’t tell you if you don’t know.”

Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Hugh pauses, confused. Why shouldn’t Mar tell him what’s going on? Unless, this is about Paul’s feelings somehow, which Mar is privy to and Hugh isn’t. Then, of course, not telling him would be the only sensible course of action.

“Are you kidding me!” To hell with sensible. Hugh needs to know what is going on.

It takes about half a minute of glaring to convince Mar that this is an emergency where rules of common decency don’t apply – probably the longest thirty seconds of Hugh’s life.

“Okay.” Mar still hesitates. “But if Paul didn’t tell you, there’s probably a good reason for that. Are you comfortable prying into his emotions?” Hugh’s stomach clenches up. Of course, he isn’t comfortable doing this, but he needs to know what the hell is going on.

He doesn’t nod, but something in his expression makes Mar sigh deeply and continue. “I sensed Paul’s feelings last night. I was kind of close but out of sight. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear. He just gets so loud, and he’s pretty distinguishable. I was a little preoccupied and very surprised to sense him at all. So it took me some time to actively block him out.” Hugh’s seen Mar embarrassed by her sometimes tenuous control of her abilities before. But he can’t remember them ever being so distraught because they’ve involuntarily listened in on someone. Maybe he really shouldn’t know.

“What did you sense from him?” Hugh is so worried he can’t even consider what he and Paul must have been doing at that time.

“Panic. Absolute unadulterated fear.” Mar’s expression is a stony mask. “To be honest, my first instinct was to run over to his room and save him from whatever. But after the initial shock had dissipated, I could sense that there was no immediate danger, nothing actual to fight, just that feeling of dread.”

At some point Hugh has lost all control of his facial expression. His eyes must be wide, his mouth has fallen open, and his hands are nervously fiddling with the seam of his shirt. He remembers now. All he and Paul did last night was cuddle and go to sleep. At least Hugh had gone to sleep. This morning Paul looked like he hadn’t slept a wink all night. Suddenly something from last night comes back to Hugh. He remembers how weird it felt when Paul turned away from him so abruptly and scooted over to the opposite side of the bed. It only bothered him for a moment though because he was tired from the day and still high on the future plans he and Paul had made.

“I didn’t want to storm into his room and make a scene when he was just having a nightmare or something, you know? And I figured you could take care of it because you were there with him. So I stayed put and just blocked him out. I hope that was okay.” Mar looks and sounds sincerely worried now.

“I don’t know.” Hugh is so stunned he can hardly believe there are words coming out of his mouth at all. “I didn’t notice something was wrong. He didn’t say anything either.” Hugh can’t even be sure if Paul was afraid despite or because of him. A helpless cold dread is spreading through his body, making him shake.

“Oh.” Mar takes his hand, calming his trembling with their own steadiness. They look clueless – an expression Hugh has rarely seen on their face. It doesn’t suit them, he decides. “But you were with him at around 2200 hours, right?”

“Yes. We were in bed.” Hugh’s voice is still trembling a little. “By that time I might have been asleep already.” He shakes his head, trying hard to remember what exactly they had talked about before Paul said he was tired and rolled over. Unbidden and unrelated, another question comes to Hugh’s mind. His brows furrow. “How could you even sense his feelings at that time? His room is three decks down and on the other side of the ship.”

Mar looks slightly indignant, but doesn’t hesitate. “I was with Viola, in her room.” They glower at Hugh as if he’s about to make a comment, which he isn’t. “Her bed is bigger than mine. And softer! That makes me feel like a second class citizen!”

At that moment the computer’s alarm sounds, reminding Hugh that his shift starts in thirty minutes. Shit. He has to get ready.

“Great! Now I have the whole beta-shift to worry about that.” Hugh tries not to direct his anger and frustration at Mar, but it’s difficult not to blame the messenger.

Luckily, Mar doesn’t seem to take it personally. They try a reassuring smile and rest a hand on his shoulder. “At least I’ll be there to keep you company. Hugh sighs in gratitude. They can’t continue such a personal and worrying conversation while they’re on duty of course. Still, the fact that he won’t have to push through this shift burdened by his concerns on his own is a comfort.

They get ready together and make their way to sickbay. For the first few hours of their shift Hugh and Mar are on call – ready to act in case of an emergency anywhere on the ship. Like most afternoons on the Republic though the time passes without any remarkable incidents.

The hours stretch like chewing gum while Hugh is trying to think about anything but the obvious. What the hell did he say to Paul that could cause such a panic? Of course there’s only one really really big thing Hugh told him that day. So logically it must have been that. Hugh actively refuses to go there though. A thought like that would paralyse him, render him unable to perform his duty, and he has enough self-control to avoid it. But gods know it would be easier if there were any real work to keep his mind from straying in that direction.

No such luck though. Sick bay remains so quiet that Hugh imagines tumbleweeds rolling through it. When it’s finally time for their break, Hugh follows Mar to the mess hall even though he already knows that he won’t be able to eat anything. His stomach is tied up in knots. He gets some alibi pasta, but then he just sits there and watches Mar as they devour a chocolate sundae.

“So do you know what you did that made him panic?”

The question comes out of the blue, just between two big spoons full of ice cream.  Mar could just as well have sucker punched him. They must know that this is exactly the question Hugh has been avoiding for the last four hours. But of course that band-aid has to come off sooner or later. And it seems like Mar has a clear preference in that regard.

“I think I know what it is.” Hugh sighs, unable to push the thought down any longer. The words rip out of him like water breaking through a dam. “Yesterday I told him that I’m coming to Earth.”

And there it is, right there, out in the open. Hugh can practically see the admission lying heavy on the table between them. At least some of the weight is off his chest now that it’s out. Still, it hurts to have his feelings on display – open for Mar to view and dissect. Mar winces, seemingly in sympathy, so they must have noticed his pain.

“Did you tell him that last night?”

“No, I told him in the afternoon, just after our workout with Viola and Nanami. Hugh isn’t sure if that changes anything.

Mar shakes their head. “Maybe it’s not that. I was with Viola in her room for most of the afternoon and evening. But I only felt that kind of panic from Paul late at night. Before that he was calm – well at least calm enough that I didn’t sense anything from him without specifically listening.” They look hopeful, but Hugh feels like he’s behind a pane of glass where that kind of relief can’t reach him.

“So maybe it wasn’t that at all. Maybe there was something else.”

“I don’t think so. What else could it have been?”

“I don’t know.” Mar looks enthusiastic now. “But I’m sure we can find out. Can you remember how Paul reacted when you told him that you’re coming to Earth?”

“I honestly only remember parts of it. I was so excited and nervous before telling him, and afterwards I was so happy and relieved. But he was happy with me. That’s what it felt like at least. We made plans about what we could do in San Francisco together. He didn’t seem scared at all.” Hugh’s mind is racing now. “And I think I would have noticed if he’d been scared. He’s so expressive. Like, normally he pulls his brows together and worries his bottom lip when …” The sentence trails off as Hugh notices how fast he has picked up on Paul’s little habits. That must be natural if your eyes are almost constantly glued to another person’s face.

“That sounds good. So he was fine right after you told him. Great! Did anything happen later on? What did you do in the afternoon?”

“The same we did the day before. He taught me engineering. We did math together. He looked very relaxed.” Hugh can’t quite share Mar’s hope, but staying rational and collecting evidence is better than losing his shit over this. And then Hugh suddenly does remember that awkward moment just before they’d gone to sleep. He recalls the way Paul had tensed up just before he rolled over saying it was too warm to sleep.

His prolonged silence must tip Mar off. “What is it?”

“I’ve remembered just now. Something happened when we were getting ready to sleep. Paul asked me when I’d applied for the project on Earth.”

“And you told him that you did that right after meeting him for the first time?” Mar’s eyebrows rise, but within a second their expression goes back to neutral.

“I did.” Suddenly Hugh feels the strong urge to slam his face into the table top. “That was the last thing I said. Ten minutes later I was already asleep.”

“So he probably got the wrong idea – just like I did when you told me that?”

“What idea? That I’m a clingy lovesick puppy that wants to leave his whole life behind just so he can chase after a man he’s talked to twice?” Hugh catches himself sounding hysterical. He doesn’t know what bothers him more, that he would come across as so pathetic or that – in a way – he was. “Having someone like that hang onto me would make me panic too!”

A hopeful smile is playing across Mar’s lips. That only disturbs Hugh more. “But that’s just a misunderstanding. You could explain it to him – just like you explained it to me. That problem can be solved easy enough.” Of course that’s the rational perspective. Unfortunately, Hugh is feeling far from rational.

“How exactly am I supposed to explain that to him?” Hugh can’t help sounding brusque. “Hey Paul, my friend spied on your feelings. So now I know that the thought of me coming to live on the same planet as you gives you a panic attack, and I also know that you were trying to hide that from me. But don’t worry. It’s all just a misunderstanding! I’m absolutely not clingy and dependant and way deeper in love than I ought to be after meeting you twice. It’s fine! That’ll totally convince him!”

“I did not spy.” Mar looks acerbic, their face tight like a knot. “I expressly told you that you probably weren’t supposed to know! Of course he could take it the wrong way. But still, I think you should come clean. He needs to know anyway that you can be a bit of a  busybody and that you tend to worry. You need to own that. Be honest!”

“Easy for you to say!” Mar’s choice of words stings as much as their judgement. Hugh can’t take it any longer. He grabs his plate, which is still filled with barely touched food, and takes it to the waste-recycling system without ever looking back at his roommate.

The rest of Hugh’s shift is spent preparing samples and filling his findings into various tables. He stays out of Mar’s way. The guilt weighing him down feels heavier by the minute. He knows Mar is right which only makes him feel worse about snapping at them. Of course they’re right, but Hugh can’t even imagine a way to explain the situation to Paul. 

So much for being honest to each other. On the other hand Paul didn’t tell him about his feelings either. Hugh should have noticed something though. How did he not see that Paul was uncomfortable to the point of panic? Some doctor he is!

After the shift Hugh hesitates to go to his room. He doesn’t want to see Mar right now, doesn’t want to continue their argument where he knows he’s in the wrong. So he makes his way to the rec room instead. It’s mostly empty at this time of night. Hugh opens the engineering material on his PADD and works through it, trying to immerse himself. But it’s hard to concentrate on numbers and formulas with all the other things in his head screaming for attention. On top of that the material seems a lot more difficult and a lot less interesting without Paul here to explain it with his particular brand of geeky excitement.

Still, Hugh is nothing if not tenacious. So he pushes through for a couple of hours, completing two new sections of Engineering 101 before he surrenders with a yawn. It should be safe to go to his room now. It’s past 0400 hours, and Mar must be asleep right now. Hugh can’t bring himself to get up from his chair though. Instead he opens the writing program on his PADD.

 

_Hi Paul!_

_I know it hasn’t even been a day yet, but I already miss you. I’ve just tried to study engineering on my own, and it’s no fun at all without you._

_I talked with Mar and we had a bit of a fight. So now I’m sitting in the rec room in the middle of the night avoiding them. I wish I could simply go to your room now, and you’d hold me and everything would be all right._

Hugh deletes what he’s written, closes his eyes and presses the smooth surface of the PADD against his forehead. Stupid! Pathetic! He sits like that for a few seconds. Or minutes. It doesn’t really matter. Then he finally makes his way to his quarters. Luckily Mar seems sound asleep, one pale arm and leg dangling over the edge of the bed. It takes Hugh five minutes to undress and slip under the covers. Falling asleep takes ages.

The next morning Hugh wakes up to dark eyes staring at him. Mar is perched on the edge of their own bed just opposite his. Hugh’s first impulse is to turn around and feign sleep for a few more hours. He doesn’t feel ready to face the music yet. But Mar probably won’t let that fly so he groans and sits up.

“I’m sorry.” That’s the easier part.

“It’s fine. I’m not mad.” The mild look on Mar’s face indicates that it’s true. “I was a little worried when you didn’t come back here last night.” Mar pouts. They stretch out a lithe leg and poke Hugh’s side with the big toe of one socked foot. “Don’t make me lose sleep.”

“Sorry for that too.” Hugh can’t help but grin. “Why aren’t you mad?”

“Because you’re a grown man. You can decide on your own what you do or don’t tell Paul. Who am I to judge? I still think you should come clean, but ultimately that’s your decision.” Mar’s brow is furrowed in thought. “But in the future I won’t tell you what I sense from people unless it’s vital for work. That’s my decision.”

Hugh nods – more than content with Mar’s wisdom. Looking back, he’d give a lot not to know what Paul was feeling. Oh, the innocence he could have.

At least Hugh has Mar back though. That’s helpful because work is as slow as ever.

After his shift Hugh finds himself lounging on his bed, staring at an empty file on his PADD until his eyes start burning. He tries to blink the strain away as his fingers suddenly start typing – seemingly without his permission.

 

_Dear Paul,_

_I need to tell you something._

_After you left, I talked to Mar, and they told me something confusing. Mar was in Viola’s room the last night before you left the ship. So they were close enough to sense your feelings. Now, don’t get this wrong. Mar didn’t just tell me anything. They thought something happened to you and I was there so I would already know what had gone on._

_That way I found out – well actually I pressured Mar to tell me to be exact because I was really worried. So I found out that you felt fear that night. Immense fear – panic even. And I know it’s none of my business, but I was lying next to you at that moment, fast asleep. So I’d like to know what made you so afraid._

_Was it me? Was it what I said at that moment or earlier that day?_

_If you’re afraid because I’m coming to Earth, we should talk about it. If you don’t want me to move there, I will_

 

Hugh stops typing. What will he do then? Go back to his pointless existence on the Republic? Build a new inane life on another Federation star ship. Find another planet to live on and never set foot on Earth again? Stupid! Pathetic! What is he even thinking?

There is nothing Hugh can offer Paul. Nothing. He stares at the screen of the PADD for an eternity and then some more. His mind is empty. Hugh deletes the message, closes the document, puts the PADD away.

That’s not the last time Hugh’s fingers type words without his permission just to make them all disappear minutes later. It takes two more days before he manages to compose a message that he actually dares to send.

_Hello Paul!_

_I know it hasn’t been long yet, but I miss you. The time we had together was wonderful. And studying engineering without you just isn’t the same. Maybe I’m not as brilliant as you thought._

_Work is even more boring than usual. Doctor Ngosi assigned my research to my co-workers. Now I have to write it all up and hand it over so they can continue my work. It’s the kind of tedious labour you’d detest. I have not taste for it either, but it has to be done._

_On a brighter note, I’ve been getting messages from my mother and my sister. They can’t wait to see me again. I’m not quite sure if they realise that I’ll have a lot of work, what with the project and going back to the Academy. But their exhilaration is adorable and maybe a little contagious._

_How are you settling in in San Francisco? Did all your mushrooms survive the trip to Earth? I hope so of course. I bet you aren’t doing much apart from work. Please, let me know about that, no matter if it’s amazing or dreadful. I want to know what’s happening in your life._

_I hope you’re getting enough sleep. Scratch that! I hope you’re getting any sleep._

_Send my regards to Straal, Nanami and Viola._

_Bye,_

_Hugh_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always very happy about and grateful for comments and opinions.


	14. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Clyde the mushroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one. I hope that's not too disappointing and you still have fun reading.  
> (The next chapter will be a bit longer and thus take me a while, but I'm on it ^^)

There is no immediate answer from Paul. Of course there isn’t. Hugh tries desperately not to get paranoid. Paul has never answered him right away. He’s probably up to his ears in work rather than appalled by the thought of Hugh joining him on Earth soon. Surely, that must be the reason why he hasn’t answered yet. At least that’s what Hugh keeps telling himself.

Meanwhile he goes through his daily routines. Hugh spends more time than usual in the gym, pushing his body so hard that his mind has no capacity to think at the same time. That has the nice side-effect of leaving him so bone-deep tired that he actually manages to fall asleep during the nights. It doesn’t seem to help though – not really. Hugh can see the way his friends and other co-workers are looking at him. Their concern grows every day that goes by with Hugh stuck in this state of liminality – caught between hope and fear.

And sometimes he writes.

 

_Hey Paul!_

_I guess you’re busy._

_I’ve just learned that Vishal will take over my research projects on the Republic. I’m pretty sure that means nothing much will come off them. He’s all over the place sometimes and never seems to finish what he starts. Now, Vishal did promise to keep me posted about the results. I’ll believe that when I see it._

_Kara is really sad that I’m leaving soon. She’s been hanging on to me – literally – whenever she sees me. Sometimes that’s a bit impractical as you can probably imagine. But I can’t help feeling flattered by it too. It’s kind of sweet._

_Kara also asked me to give you her regards. She would have loved to get to know you better. You probably won’t believe it, but I think she misses you a bit._

_I hope you’re not killing yourself with work. Please, make sure that you sleep and eat and stay hydrated. (Ok, I’ll stop writing before I completely turn into my mother.)_

_Bye,_

_Hugh_

It’s been a week since Paul and his colleagues left the Republic. Hugh is going stir-crazy from a mix of absolute ennui and his unwillingness to think about the things that are bothering him. Every morning the face greeting him in the mirror looks a little more tired, a little more hopeless. Every day at the gym his muscles scream at him a little louder for pushing them beyond their capacity. Every shift without any real work has his paranoia reeling its ugly head. The only times Hugh is even marginally alright are when he’s with his friends. But unlike him they have work to do that still has a future. And he can sense that Mar has difficulty taking his constant moping. So Hugh spends more and more time by himself even when it feels like it’s eating him alive.

Hugh tries to escape his sorrows into a book. He attempts to conjure up his abuelita’s voice, speaking the familiar words to him in that soothing tone that has always managed to weave a cocoon of calm around him when he was little. His concentration fails him though. All that echoes in Hugh’s head is his own voice – making the Spanish words ring entirely hollow. Sometimes he doesn’t understand the words at all. That growing absence makes his chest constrict in fear. He shivers with the realisation that a lack of sleep and focus can so easily rob him of his heritage, his place of solace.

While the Spanish words evade him, the English ones come to his traitorous fingers almost unbidden.

 

_Hi!_

_I’m sure you’re busy. I wish I was. Never in my life has boredom felt so tangible. I could slice it up and send you a few pieces. There isn’t anything for me to do on this ship._

_I still can’t concentrate on math and engineering without your help so I went back to my books. Well, they’re my abuelita’s books, but you know what I mean. She left me several books by Antonio Mu_ _ñ_ _os Molina. Abuelita must have liked him I guess. Or maybe he was especially famous and that’s why many of his books got preserved. I don’t know._

_I haven’t read any of his works yet. I just picked one at random. So now I’m reading “La Noche de los Tempos”._

_Normally I like abuelita’s books. They’re good at distracting me, but this one is quite depressing. I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to finish it. Still, I feel like I owe it to abuelita to read all of the books she left me. They’re my last connection to her. I want to honour that._

_What would you do if you were in my place?_

_See you soon_

 

Hugh deletes the last few words and ends the message the regular way. Usually he has no problems filling the pages with chatter and random everyday things for Paul. Right now though, Hugh has no idea how to tell Paul about his day without giving away what he knows and how he feels about it. Suddenly it’s difficult to come up with the right words, to write something without actually lying.

It takes two weeks and three days before a message from Paul arrives. Of course that’s not different from his usual behaviour. Still, Hugh feels like he’s been ignored intentionally. As soon as the message symbol on his PADD starts blinking, spite and concern begin to war inside him. On the one hand Hugh wants nothing more than to finally know what Paul has to say to him. On the other hand he can’t listen to the message right away. That would make him feel weak and defeated.

In the end it’s Mar who prompts him to finally give in. “I swear if you don’t fucking watch that fucking video right now we’ll both have a fucking aneurism!”

 

_Hi!_

Paul looks like death. The pallor of his skin, the deep shadows darkening his eyes and hollowing his cheeks make Hugh’s stomach drop.

_I haven’t done anything but work in quite a while. But you said I could tell you about work._

_The mushrooms are being difficult. Especially this one._

Paul points at a little pale blue growth in a transparent enclosure that’s standing on the desk in front of him. Its translucent tendrils seem to be stretching towards Paul’s finger.

_I’ve called him Clyde. He almost died in the greenhouse with the others. Straal gave up hope on him, but I’m sure all he needs is a little TLC. So I moved Clyde into my office so I can take care of him._

It almost sounds like Paul is talking about a pet or even a child. That’s incredibly adorable. Hugh can feel a smile tug at his lips despite his worries.

_Clyde is …_

_Oh, I’m saying Clyde and he. Of course mushrooms have no gender. Ok, they have like 30000 sexes or more, but gender is a cultural construct so they don’t have that, right? But Clyde is totally male. He’s being so fucking difficult. I’ve never seen a woman or enby act like this. He’s a boy._

First the words tumble from Paul’s mouth in rapid succession, then there’s a pause. It looks like he is only now listening to what he’s just said, his brows furrowed in intense confusion.

_Ok, I’m not making any sense. I’m too tired. I shouldn’t be talking to anyone right now. I’ll continue later._

 

The screen turns dark for a moment. When the picture returns, Hugh can make out the desk and Clyde. But things have changed. There’s daylight falling through a window on the left – at least it doesn’t look like the white LEDs that made Paul’s skin look grey a few seconds ago. Moreover Hugh is certain the mushroom called Clyde has grown a couple of centimetres. The biggest change he can see is in Paul himself though. He still looks pale and a bit gaunt, but there are only light shadows under his eyes. His gaze is clear and blue like the sky on a crisp autumn morning.

 

_Hi Hugh!_

_I’m sorry I took so long to answer._

Paul smiles, but it looks nervous.

_Frankly, I started that video when I was almost delirious, and then I forgot about it for a week. Sorry. I probably shouldn’t even send it because I look so stupid, but I wanted you to know that I tried._

There is some hesitation; the almost transparent eyebrows are pulled together again. Maybe Paul is debating whether he should delete all of this. He shakes his head as if to clear it before he finally continues.

_Anyway, you’ll be glad to hear that I’m less tired now. I’m getting a little more sleep than before. That’s mainly because Straal’s apartment is two floors down from mine, and he makes me go home when he does._

_I’m supposed to send you greetings from Straal and Viola and Nanami by the way._

Paul freezes for a second, his eyes fixating on a point that must be behind the camera. But the moment is over before Hugh can wonder what that’s all about.

_So, work. I was so tired last week because work was killing me. We have to hire personnel for our institute, and somehow I ended up with the job of doing the interviews. It does make sense. I’m usually good at organising and delegating work to other scientists. I’m also the one who seems to know best what kinds of skill sets we need in our new workers._

_Meanwhile Straal was supposed to take care of the fungi. They didn’t take the move well, and something about the new greenhouse is wrong. I mean it’s great and big and beautiful. It has state of the art technology for optimising growth and spore harvest. I really love it. Sadly, the mushrooms don’t. We still haven’t found out what’s bothering them. It might be the pH-value of the soil or the light level and colour or the humidity. There are so many options._

_So on top of my actual job I was worrying about that as well. If the mushrooms continue to wither, that’s two years of work down the drain. It would be a catastrophe. That might have been the most exhausting week of my life. I dealt with so many people, I didn’t sleep, I forgot to eat. And it seems I recorded pointless messages to …_

Paul lets the sentence trail off, and laughs a little nervously. Hugh can feel his stomach drop imagining the pressure Paul must have been under. It’s worrisome. He can’t help but cheer inwardly though. Paul is willing to share his troubles with him. That must be a good sign, right?

Hugh feels guilty and selfish immediately after thinking that.

_But don’t worry. It’s better now. Straal suggested that we switch work. He knows I have a better way with growing the fungi. And while he isn’t really better at dealing with people, at least he doesn’t find them so draining. So now Straal does the interviews and just gives me the gist afterwards._

_The mushrooms have been getting better. But, of course, Clyde here decided to keep being complicated._

Paul gives the mushroom a reproachful look – not unlike the way one might glare at a spouse of many years who is acting especially unreasonable. Hugh has to laugh at that.

_He got worse in my office. So I’ve started taking him home at night. And suddenly he is growing. It’s like he only wants attention…_

A lingering smile takes residence on Hugh’s face as Paul sighs theatrically.

_Well that and he needs to be moisturised every three hours. By hand! He accepts one specific spray bottle; any other method is too rough or spreads too much water or something. It’s ridiculous!_

_I know what you’re thinking, but I’m getting enough sleep … well more sleep than before anyway. I sleep for six hours a night in two shifts so I can take care of Clyde in between. That’s more than average for me. So no reason to worry!_

Hugh huffs. As if telling him not to worry would have any effect! But Paul is a grown man, and it certainly could be worse.

_Ok. Enough about my work and my health. You’re not my doctor, right? You said you were reading – or trying to read – a book by Antonio Mu_ _ñ_ _os Molina. Believe it or not, I know that author!_

The glint of pride in Paul’s eyes is adorable.

_My mother loved his books, still does, probably. We had loads of them – in English, of course, and on PADDs rather than on paper. I remember actually reading some of those books in a desperate attempt to have something to talk about with my mother. But back then I thought they were incredibly boring. I’m pretty sure they weren’t written for moping twelve-year olds though._

Paul makes a self-deprecating grimace as if he doesn’t really want to remember that time of his life. Hugh on the other hand tries to imagine that little boy, trying to make his way through a drab story for adults to impress a person he loves. It pulls at his heartstrings _._

_So, anyhow, I don’t remember the titles well, but I thought maybe if you told me a bit about the plot, I might remember if it’s a book I’ve read. Then we could talk about it if you like, in our messages or when you’re here._

Paul looks wistful.

_I thought that might work as motivation for you to keep on reading. Maybe I could even try and read the book again. Who knows, I could actually like it now. I think I’ve grown a bit since the last time I’ve tried. So just tell me about the book if you feel like it._

_Oh, and I’ve realised that I’ve never even heard you speak Spanish. I mean it’s not like I would understand anything, but I’d really like to hear it. I feel like there’s a giant part of you that I know nothing about. There are probably quite a few parts of you I don’t know. I’d like to change that._

_So I thought, maybe, if you feel like it, you could read me a page of that book or something and send me the recording. I’d really like that. But only if you want to, of course._

A deep pink blush has spread over Paul’s face and down his neck. Hugh is smiling, already recounting what he’s read so far, what’ll sound good on a recording.

_That’s all I have to say for now. I’ll get back to work._

_Bye Hugh_

The smile on Paul’s face looks a little apprehensive. Still, all in all he seems happy.

 

And just like that Hugh feels so much lighter. He watches the video again and again before he feels ready to put the PADD away. That doesn’t look or sound as if Paul doesn’t want Hugh close. Quite the opposite. It seems like Paul wants to build a deeper connection. That still doesn’t alleviate Hugh’s feelings of guilt, but at the moment the love and joy running through his veins easily outshine his darker emotions.

Mar must feel it too, judging by the way they grin at him when they enter the room. It probably doesn’t take the powers of a Betazoid to interpret the wide smile on his face.

The next days are easier. Hugh sleeps a little better, and with his concentration his Spanish seems to return to him. He keeps reading his book, taking notes about the plot, marking pages that might sound good if he reads them to Paul. It takes him two days of reading out loud – recording and deleting passages from the novel. When he feels confident about the words he wants to send to Paul, he compiles the files for a message, curious how Paul will react.


	15. Meeting on Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have to get worse before they can get better, but Hugh isn't alone at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing felt very off these past few days. I hope you still like the chapter.

When Hugh steps on the transporter pad on the Republic, it feels like his small bag is filled with boulders and weighs at least a ton. As the transporter room disintegrates in front of his eyes, he reviews the last two weeks. Where there was hope after he had sent his recording to Paul there is just a giant void now. There has been no real answer. All he received from Paul were short written notes, stating that work was busier than ever, that nothing was going as planned, that there was no time to eat or sleep or relax let alone recording messages for Hugh. Paul did not in fact write that, but Hugh has gathered as much from the gaps and silences between the lines he did receive.

As soon as he rematerializes at Star Fleet Central, Hugh is disappointed. Of course, he’s not greeted by ice-blue eyes peaking up at him from under transparent lashes. He didn’t really expect Paul to show up at his arrival. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though. Hugh would gladly give all his belongings – which are currently gathered around him on the transporter pad – just to see Paul’s face right now.

He’s worried. Written lines mean that he couldn’t gauge Paul’s health or feelings from his appearance. No pale skin, no bruises under his eyes, not even the tone of his voice to give away how badly Paul is working himself into the ground. But it’s not just worry that’s eating away at Hugh. There’s doubt too. How does he know that Paul isn’t just making up excuses to ignore him? At some point they’ve stopped being honest.

“Oh, you look happy to see me!” The exasperated voice snaps Hugh out of his thoughts like a bucket of water to the face. Hugh’s heart starts racing. “Let me help you with your luggage. There are people waiting to beam up.”

“Isabel!” Before she can grab any of his bags, Hugh pulls his sister into a crushing embrace. “I told you and Daya and Mami that you don’t need to come all the way over here just for me!” He says that into a thick mane of brown curls. They smell like calendula, which instantly makes him feel safe and at home.

Bella laughs as she rubs his back. “You have been away for too long if you thought that nobody from your family would show up to welcome you back to Earth. Don’t be ridiculous!” She pulls back and playfully pokes his cheek. Then she hauls one of his boxes onto the anti-grav cart provided by Starfleet. “Mami would have come to greet you herself, but her new girlfriend is sick, and she wanted to take care of her.”

Hugh almost drops the box he’s carrying over to the cart. “She has a new girlfriend?” If his mom is staying with that woman rather than seeing her son for the first time in months, it must be serious too.

“Those are the things you miss if you don’t call home every week, little brother.” Bella gives him a wide grin to underline that she’s just joking. It’s only been twenty days since Hugh last talked to his mom. “Mami will tell you about Nanette as soon as she hears from you. That’s the plan I think.”

“Nanette? As in her colleague of five years? The married woman?”

“Newly separated. They’ve been dating for a while now, but mami didn’t want to jinx it before it was official. You know how she gets.”

“What about Bibi and Alex? How are they?” Hugh would have liked to see those two sun shines today. He adores his niece and nephew. Playing with them, listening to their weird stories, teaching them inappropriate Spanish words, seeing their big brown eyes shining with glee – it’s impossible for him to be gloomy around them.

“They’re at home with Seth. They’re fine. I thought moving your stuff into a new apartment wouldn’t be interesting to them. They would have hindered us more than helped. And I wanted to have you for myself, little brother.” Bella kisses his cheek and squeezes his shoulder. Then they are on their way to said new apartment with the few belongings Hugh had with him on the Republic.

Hugh’s new place looks empty and sterile when he enters it for the first time. There is some furniture in there, but the walls are white and bleak, no photos or artworks adorning them, no soft colourful cushions on the couch or chairs, not plush carpets. He does find a few boxes in the living room though. Hugh gives Bella a questioning look.

“I took your things out of storage and brought them here. And yes, I might have talked your super into giving me an extra key card for the place.” She smiles nonchalantly, probably expecting that he’ll insist on having that card back immediately.

“Why does that not surprise me in the least?” Hugh doesn’t mention the key card. He doesn’t mind.

The boxes are filled with half-forgotten treasures. The quilted blanket his abuelita had sewn for him when he was still a baby. Little animals made from clay – Daya picked up that hobby at school and has never stopped making them. And photos of his family, the one of his father in a frame decorated with glitter and plastic flowers – Hugh still remembers how proud he was when he brought it home to his mami. There are loads of old data rods too, containing music and movies and books.

It’s Bella who finds a box with Hugh’s old clothes; at least that’s what Hugh assumes when she starts laughing hysterically. Hugh joins in with her laughter when she pulls a silver shirt out of the box and throws it at him. “Do you remember when you refused to wear anything but this thing? When was that? Your last year of school?”

He unfolds the slippery fabric and looks at the tiny button-down with a mixture of embarrassment and fondness. Those were good times, fashion sins aside.

“What are you waiting for? Put it on!” Bella looks positively gleeful.

“It’s never gonna fit. It’s tiny!” Hugh pulls off his uniform jacket and the dark grey undershirt nonetheless. It feels like the silky silver material has to stretch to double its width when he slips into it. The shirt was meant to be tight when Hugh was a teenager. The way the buttons fight to keep the front together is comical now. Hugh doesn’t even try to close them over his pectoral muscles.

Half a room away Bella is giggling so hard she can’t remain upright. Or maybe that is just subterfuge so that she can pull out her mobile comm device. Now she’s snapping images of him. “Mom’s gonna lose it. I love it!” She succumbs to a fit of giggles when Hugh pounces at her, trying to get to the device before she can send the pictures to their relatives. The shirt greatly confines his movement though and shaves against his arm muscles. So Hugh has to give up before long.

Both of them are panting a bit as they recover from the chase through the living room. Hugh fights his way out of the shirt and throws it on the floor, thus starting a trash pile that will probably grow bigger as they continue unpacking the boxes. He fishes a light grey long-sleeved shirt out of his bag in order to replace the silver abomination.

Isabel looks smug as she goes through the pictures on her little comm unit. “One of those is going to go in mami’s collection, I bet.”

“Collection?”

“Yeah. She’s started rummaging around for embarrassing childhood photos and films and holos of you so she can show them to your boyfriend.” The last word comes out in a singsong that reminds Hugh of the twelve-year old version of his oldest sister. “Why didn’t he welcome you at the transporter today? I’d hoped that I could see him, at least for a little moment.” Bella is trying hard to sound nonchalant. Still, the curiosity just beneath the surface is so apparent that it makes Hugh smirk.

“So that’s why mami sent you here. You’re her spy! You’re the only one in the family who might have an inkling of the meaning of the word subtlety.” Hugh teases, making his sister pout with indignation.

“I’ll have you know that I can be extraordinarily subtle!”

“What? Like that time when you’d just started studying psychology? When you kept interrogating my first boyfriend because you were convinced that he was a psychopath?” Hugh can laugh at the memory now. At the time it was the height of embarrassment though.

“He did show some worrying tendencies.”

What a feeble defence!

“We were 14, Bella! Show me one teenager without worrying tendencies!”

She looks like she wants to argue, but then decides to drop the issue. “Stop deflecting. Why wasn’t Paul there to welcome you?” Most of the mirth leaves Hugh right that instant.

“I didn’t ask him to come.” It’s the truth. But of course, his sister – the psychologist – sees right through his attempt at another diversion. The way she crosses her arms and pulls up her eyebrow reminds him so much of his abuelita that he has to swallow a few times before he can go on with a steady voice. “Look, Paul is really busy at the moment. His work is madness right now. I didn’t want to cause him any more stress by asking him to come for me in the middle of the day.” I also didn’t want to test if he would ignore that request. Bella seems to hear the words even though they never leave Hugh’s lips.

His sister huffs in acrimony – another move she’s stolen from their abuelita’s book. “Fine. But if he loves you, he should make time for you.”

“He does, Bella.” Hugh sighs, reminding himself of how Paul studied with him and that he’s already told his family about it. “Now is just a bad time.” That’s what he tells himself at least, what he’s desperately trying to believe. “You can tell mami that as well. She’ll have to wait a bit before she can show him those embarrassing childhood memories.” His smile is weak.

Bella furrows her brow. She looks like she’s about to rebuke him and question him further. After a moment she seems to think better of it though. “You know that’ll only give her time to find even more incriminating material.”

Hugh is grateful for her light tone and the fact that she’s letting it go. His laughter almost doesn’t feel forced.

“I’m pretty sure he won’t find it embarrassing.” Hugh muses. “Paul talks to his mushrooms after all.”

“He does?” Bella’s eyes grow big.

“Yes. He has one of them in a pot and takes it home because it’s refusing to grow. Paul has named it Clyde, and he talks to it like they’re an old married couple.”

They look at each other with straight faces for all of two seconds. Then the laughter escapes them in huffs and puffs more and more openly. And for the first time in days Hugh can feel his muscles relax completely.

They sit on the couch, slumped against each other, exhausted from laughing so hard. “Don’t tell mami that.”

“Why not?” Bella’s eyes are still shining. “It’s not unusual for people to anthropomorphise animals or plants or even things. That alone is not a bad sign. For most people it just gives them a sense of security, a semblance of control.” Her look grows distant. “You might have been too young to remember, but mami used to talk to her orchids after dad died.”

Hugh frowns, trying to remember. “She doesn’t do that anymore.”

“No, she doesn’t. She stopped when she got back on her feet. When being without him wasn’t that unimaginable thing anymore.” Bella looks wistful then smiles. “It’s a way to cope with stress, I guess.”

Hugh turns that thought over in his head for a while.

They spend the rest of the afternoon reminiscing as they unpack the rest of Hugh’s things. They order Korean food and eat it sitting on the floor between empty boxes. As it becomes evening, Bella has to get to the transport that’ll bring her back to Pittsburgh.

This little reprieve helps Hugh to sleep well in his new bed. So he dreams.

 

He’s surrounded by warm light, unsure where exactly he is. The first object that comes into focus is a small growth. Its translucent blueish tendrils seem to be reaching out to him. “Clyde.” Hugh’s fingertips graze the mushroom and come away glimmering in a pale blue-lavender gleam. Hugh stares at it in awe and moves his fingers so that the light reflects off the tiny particles. It’s mesmerising.

“He likes you.” Paul’s voice sounds warm and mellow and so so close. It feels the same when Paul’s body melts against Hugh’s from behind. Hugh leans back into the comfortable warmth and the familiar smell. “Clyde missed you. As did I.” Hugh feels the words reverberating through Paul’s solid form, and somehow that makes it easier to believe them. A soft smile is tugging at his lips, and suddenly Hugh craves the taste and feel of Paul against them.

Hugh’s thoughts change his reality immediately. He can’t see Clyde anymore. Instead, Paul is in front of him. His gaze is searing Hugh’s mind like blue flame. Still, he can feel the silky softness of Paul’s pink lips against his own. He is inside himself, feeling a hot tongue caress his, but he is also outside, watching Paul as he kisses him. Their breath mingles as the boundaries between both their bodies become blurred.

The next time Hugh’s vision clears he’s standing in a little kitchen. Its blue tiles and white cabinets are drenched in sunlight. It looks like the one in abuelita’s tiny old flat. That thought echoes somewhere in the depth of Hugh’s consciousness, but it’s gone as soon as he tries to hold on to it. His attention is pulled to the clinking of bowls and the clattering of pots. Paul is standing at abuelita’s stove, dwarfing it despite his lean physique. He seems to feel right at home though, humming a piece of Hugh’s favourite opera under his breath. Something tells Hugh that this shouldn’t make sense to him. But it does. It seems natural. This is the way things ought to be. He knows that with all of his being.

Before Hugh can doubt or question that, the scenery changes again. They’re sitting in an endless darkness that could be a room or a universe. A comfortable cocoon of orange candlelight surrounds them. Hugh knows that they’re in the middle of eating the meal Paul has prepared for them in their kitchen. His lover’s eyes are trained on him. They look big, the pupils huge in the dimness. Expectant.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.”

Paul reaches for his hand – his smile so open and vulnerable that it almost pains Hugh to look at it directly. His eyes are gleaming.

“So you’re not giving up on me?”

“Why would I ever give up on you?”

Hugh curses the table for standing between them. He wants to pull Paul close. He needs to eliminate every millimetre of doubt between them.

“I’d never give up on you. I love you.”

 

The intensity and warmth of the dream only makes Paul’s absence more jarring when it greets Hugh upon waking.

With the emptiness come the gnawing questions why Paul hasn’t contacted him yet. Luckily, getting settled in in San Francisco and finding his bearings at Starfleet Medical keeps Hugh busy enough to push the questions away for the time being.

There is another week of radio silence before Hugh receives a life sign from Paul. It’s a short written message inquiring whether Hugh has settled in on Earth already. It feels like too little too late, but Hugh doesn’t want to appear too needy or too complicated. So he chooses his words carefully as he replies.

 

_I’ve settled in alright. It’s nice to be back in San Francisco. I didn’t notice how much I missed the sun._

_The new job is keeping me on my toes. There’s a lot to do and even more to learn._

_Still, I think I could spare the time for a coffee soon. I’d like to see you. It’s been a while._

He wants to say more and less at the same time. Keeping it vague might prompt Paul to ask him what exactly is happening in his life. Or he could take it as an excuse to be curt with him as well. This debate goes back and forth in Hugh’s head. At some point he just sends the message to get it over with.

Hugh gets an answer almost immediately. Unsure what to make of that he braces himself before reading.

 

_I can’t see you right now. There is so much to do at work. It’s just not feasible. I’m sorry._

 

That’s it. All of it. Hugh stares at the display of his PADD for a few minutes, blinking, his sister's words echoing through his mind. If he loves you, he should make time for you. By the time Hugh puts the device away, there’s a big lump in his throat. Not looking at the PADD again, he goes to his bedroom and pulls on his training clothes. He leaves the apartment complex for a run.

When he comes back, it’s dark outside. Hugh has no idea for how long he’s been running or which routes he’s taken. It’s only the persistent ache in his muscles that tells him that he’s overdone it – probably by a few kilometres.

But at least his body and his mind are pleasantly numb after he’s showered and falls down onto his mattress. Sleep comes for him easily, sweeping away all unbidden thoughts in his head.

When his alarm shrills in the morning, Hugh’s limbs feel like they’re filled with lead tough. His head seems just as heavy, his slow thoughts matching his careful movements. This kind of heavy numbness feels nice at first, easy almost. Until Hugh arrives at work that is. There he feels like a slug surrounded by wasps. Everyone around him is busy, buzzing, alert. Meanwhile the muscles of his fingers have become stiff and twitchy. The tweezers he’s holding start to shake uncontrollably when he works on some tiny machinery that’s supposed to help someone with swallowing one day.

“Not like that, Doctor Culber.” The strict voice coming from behind him cuts through the last thin shreds of his concentration. Hugh freezes, but his fingers don’t stop trembling. He closes his eyes in embarrassment and hangs his head. So much for making a good impression in his first week.

A tiny hand lands softly on his shoulder. From it an unexpected wave of warmth spreads through his body, making him exhale the breath he’s been holding.

Doctor Le continues in her calm level voice. “Doctor Culber, if you’re not fit for work, you should call in sick. We as doctors should set a good example, don’t you think?” Hugh can feel the blood rushing to his neck and face, the prickling heat just beneath his skin. Doctor Le is an expert on muscle spasm and is thus probably able to tell that his predicament was caused by his own stupidity. “Will you be able to do the breathing exercises with Leelo?” Somehow the calm of her voice cuts just as deep as a loud reprimand would.

Hugh nods sharply, not looking his supervisor in the eyes. “Good”, she says, “then go to her now and do the exercises with her. Afterwards I want you to go home and rest. Take tomorrow off as well.” Before Hugh can open his mouth to protest, her hand is warm and solid on his shoulder again. Now he looks up at her in surprise. “I need you on top of your game, Doctor Culber.” Le smiles, knowing, and there is nothing left to say. So Hugh does as he’s told.

When he comes home, Hugh takes magnesium supplements and draws himself a hot bath. He barely manages to sit down in the tub because his legs are starting to go stiff. For a moment he wonders if and how he would have got home if Doctor Le hadn’t made him leave work early. Luckily, his muscles give up some of the tension under the water’s warm caress. Free of the immediate pain Hugh has time to consider his situation, and he slowly sinks deeper into the tub. When even his face is submerged, there is finally peace. Everything goes quiet for a moment. It’s just him and the tiny waves created by his body as it floats.

Hugh embraces the nothingness and lets it all go. Right now it doesn’t matter that Paul is ignoring him, that Hugh still misses him like hell, that he doesn’t know what to tell his mom and his sisters, or that he embarrassed himself in front of his new supervisor.

Sooner or later Hugh has to come up for air though. When he does, he expels all the air from his lungs as if he is pushing out a toxic gas. Then he opens his eyes, takes deep even breaths and hopes that if he can just calm his body, his mind will get the memo too.

Hugh makes himself eat something, though just afterwards he’s already forgotten what it was or how it tasted. It’s the middle of the afternoon when the doctor closes the curtains, dims the lights and marches to his bed – guided by determination he usually reserves for studying for exams or preparing for a complicated surgery. It still feels like forever before he finally sinks into the sweet oblivion of sleep though.

It’s the beeping of his flat’s comm system that pulls him from one kind of darkness into another. Hugh stumbles out of bed, unsure where he’s going in this still unfamiliar place. He can answer the call from anywhere just using his voice. He almost topples over since the muscles of his legs have grown stiff while he slept. He holds on to the wall, confused.

“Computer, lights to 50%.” Hugh still has to blink several times even though that’s really not very bright. “Answer call, audio only.” There’s a rustling sound and then a voice he hasn’t heard in a while.”

“Hugh? This is Straal. I know I should probably call an ambulance, but Paul’s never speaking to me again if he wakes up in a hospital. Anyway, we were working late, and he just keeled over, and I can’t get him to wake up. What do I do? Could you come here?”

“I assume he’s breathing.”

“Yes.”

Hugh exhales deeply. He is half-dressed already and absentmindedly hunting for his key card.

“Computer, transfer call to mobile comm unit.” Hugh grabs the device. “Straal, give me the address. I’m on my way. And then I need you to take his pulse and blood pressure for me. Can you do that?”

The door whooshes closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Germany (or at least in my region of it) there's the superstition that the dream you have the first night you sleep in your new home will come true. So there is hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Feel free to visit my tumblr:
> 
> http://lilbasthet.tumblr.com/


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